Little Dorrit - Page 278/462

Mental reservations and artful

mysteries grew out of these things. Callers looking steadily into the

eyes of their receivers, pretended not to smell cooking three feet off;

people, confronting closets accidentally left open, pretended not to see

bottles; visitors with their heads against a partition of thin canvas,

and a page and a young female at high words on the other side, made

believe to be sitting in a primeval silence. There was no end to the

small social accommodation-bills of this nature which the gipsies of

gentility were constantly drawing upon, and accepting for, one another.

Some of these Bohemians were of an irritable temperament, as constantly

soured and vexed by two mental trials: the first, the consciousness

that they had never got enough out of the public; the second, the

consciousness that the public were admitted into the building. Under the

latter great wrong, a few suffered dreadfully--particularly on Sundays,

when they had for some time expected the earth to open and swallow

the public up; but which desirable event had not yet occurred, in

consequence of some reprehensible laxity in the arrangements of the

Universe.

Mrs Gowan's door was attended by a family servant of several years'

standing, who had his own crow to pluck with the public concerning a

situation in the Post-Office which he had been for some time expecting,

and to which he was not yet appointed. He perfectly knew that the public

could never have got him in, but he grimly gratified himself with the

idea that the public kept him out. Under the influence of this injury

(and perhaps of some little straitness and irregularity in the matter

of wages), he had grown neglectful of his person and morose in mind;

and now beholding in Clennam one of the degraded body of his oppressors,

received him with ignominy. Mrs Gowan, however, received him with

condescension.

He found her a courtly old lady, formerly a Beauty, and

still sufficiently well-favoured to have dispensed with the powder on

her nose and a certain impossible bloom under each eye. She was a little

lofty with him; so was another old lady, dark-browed and high-nosed,

and who must have had something real about her or she could not have

existed, but it was certainly not her hair or her teeth or her figure

or her complexion; so was a grey old gentleman of dignified and sullen

appearance; both of whom had come to dinner. But, as they had all

been in the British Embassy way in sundry parts of the earth, and as

a British Embassy cannot better establish a character with the

Circumlocution Office than by treating its compatriots with illimitable

contempt (else it would become like the Embassies of other countries),

Clennam felt that on the whole they let him off lightly.