Little Dorrit - Page 163/462

What have you been doing, woman?' inquired Jeremiah. 'You've been rung

for fifty times.' 'Oh Jeremiah,' said Mistress Affery, 'I have been a-dreaming!' Reminded of her former achievement in that way, Mr Flintwinch held the

candle to her head, as if he had some idea of lighting her up for the

illumination of the kitchen.

'Don't you know it's her tea-time?' he demanded with a vicious grin, and

giving one of the legs of Mistress Affery's chair a kick.

'Jeremiah? Tea-time? I don't know what's come to me. But I got such a

dreadful turn, Jeremiah, before I went--off a-dreaming, that I think it

must be that.' 'Yoogh! Sleepy-Head!' said Mr Flintwinch, 'what are you talking about?'

'Such a strange noise, Jeremiah, and such a curious movement. In the

kitchen here--just here.' Jeremiah held up his light and looked at the blackened ceiling, held

down his light and looked at the damp stone floor, turned round with his

light and looked about at the spotted and blotched walls

. 'Rats, cats, water, drains,' said Jeremiah.

Mistress Affery negatived each with a shake of her head. 'No, Jeremiah;

I have felt it before. I have felt it up-stairs, and once on the

staircase as I was going from her room to ours in the night--a rustle

and a sort of trembling touch behind me.'

'Affery, my woman,' said Mr Flintwinch grimly, after advancing his nose

to that lady's lips as a test for the detection of spirituous liquors,

'if you don't get tea pretty quick, old woman, you'll become sensible

of a rustle and a touch that'll send you flying to the other end of the

kitchen.' This prediction stimulated Mrs Flintwinch to bestir herself, and to

hasten up-stairs to Mrs Clennam's chamber. But, for all that, she now

began to entertain a settled conviction that there was something wrong

in the gloomy house.

Henceforth, she was never at peace in it after

daylight departed; and never went up or down stairs in the dark without

having her apron over her head, lest she should see something. What with these ghostly apprehensions and her singular dreams, Mrs

Flintwinch fell that evening into a haunted state of mind, from which

it may be long before this present narrative descries any trace of her

recovery. In the vagueness and indistinctness of all her new experiences

and perceptions, as everything about her was mysterious to herself she

began to be mysterious to others: and became as difficult to be made out

to anybody's satisfaction as she found the house and everything in it

difficult to make out to her own.