Little Dorrit - Page 253/462

She disappeared, leaving Little Dorrit to ponder over the meaning of her

scattered words. She soon came back again; and at last began to take her

own breakfast, talking all the while.

'You see, my dear,' said Flora, measuring out a spoonful or two of some

brown liquid that smelt like brandy, and putting it into her tea, 'I am

obliged to be careful to follow the directions of my medical man though

the flavour is anything but agreeable being a poor creature and it may

be have never recovered the shock received in youth from too much giving

way to crying in the next room when separated from Arthur, have you

known him long?' As soon as Little Dorrit comprehended that she had been asked this

question--for which time was necessary, the galloping pace of her new

patroness having left her far behind--she answered that she had known Mr

Clennam ever since his return.

'To be sure you couldn't have known him before unless you had been in

China or had corresponded neither of which is likely,' returned Flora,

'for travelling-people usually get more or less mahogany and you are not

at all so and as to corresponding what about? that's very true unless

tea, so it was at his mother's was it really that you knew him first,

highly sensible and firm but dreadfully severe--ought to be the mother

of the man in the iron mask.'

'Mrs Clennam has been kind to me,' said Little Dorrit.

'Really? I am sure I am glad to hear it because as Arthur's mother it's

naturally pleasant to my feelings to have a better opinion of her than

I had before, though what she thinks of me when I run on as I am certain

to do and she sits glowering at me like Fate in a go-cart--shocking

comparison really--invalid and not her fault--I never know or can

imagine.' 'Shall I find my work anywhere, ma'am?' asked Little Dorrit, looking

timidly about; 'can I get it?'

'You industrious little fairy,' returned Flora, taking, in another cup

of tea, another of the doses prescribed by her medical man, 'there's

not the slightest hurry and it's better that we should begin by being

confidential about our mutual friend--too cold a word for me at least

I don't mean that, very proper expression mutual friend--than become

through mere formalities not you but me like the Spartan boy with the

fox biting him, which I hope you'll excuse my bringing up for of all

the tiresome boys that will go tumbling into every sort of company that

boy's the tiresomest.'