Once more he put out his hand frankly to poor Flora; once more poor
Flora couldn't accept it frankly, found it worth nothing openly, must
make the old intrigue and mystery of it. As much to her own enjoyment as
to his dismay, she covered it with a corner of her shawl as she took it.
Then, looking towards the glass front of the counting-house, and seeing
two figures approaching, she cried with infinite relish, 'Papa! Hush,
Arthur, for Mercy's sake!' and tottered back to her chair with an
amazing imitation of being in danger of swooning, in the dread surprise
and maidenly flutter of her spirits.
The Patriarch, meanwhile, came inanely beaming towards the
counting-house in the wake of Pancks. Pancks opened the door for him,
towed him in, and retired to his own moorings in a corner.
'I heard from Flora,' said the Patriarch with his benevolent smile,
'that she was coming to call, coming to call. And being out, I thought
I'd come also, thought I'd come also.'
The benign wisdom he infused into this declaration (not of itself
profound), by means of his blue eyes, his shining head, and his long
white hair, was most impressive. It seemed worth putting down among the
noblest sentiments enunciated by the best of men. Also, when he said to
Clennam, seating himself in the proffered chair, 'And you are in a new
business, Mr Clennam? I wish you well, sir, I wish you well!' he seemed
to have done benevolent wonders.
'Mrs Finching has been telling me, sir,' said Arthur, after making his
acknowledgments; the relict of the late Mr F. meanwhile protesting, with
a gesture, against his use of that respectable name; 'that she hopes
occasionally to employ the young needlewoman you recommended to my
mother. For which I have been thanking her.'
The Patriarch turning his head in a lumbering way towards Pancks, that
assistant put up the note-book in which he had been absorbed, and took
him in tow. 'You didn't recommend her, you know,' said Pancks; 'how could you? You
knew nothing about her, you didn't. The name was mentioned to you, and
you passed it on. That's what YOU did.' 'Well!' said Clennam.
'As she justifies any recommendation, it is much
the same thing.' 'You are glad she turns out well,' said Pancks, 'but it wouldn't have
been your fault if she had turned out ill. The credit's not yours as it
is, and the blame wouldn't have been yours as it might have been. You
gave no guarantee. You knew nothing about her.' 'You are not acquainted,
then,' said Arthur, hazarding a random question, 'with any of her
family?'