Little Dorrit - Page 85/462

'Are you going to my mother's this morning? I think not, for it is past

your usual hour.' 'Not to-day, sir. I am not wanted to-day.'

'Will you allow Me to walk a little way in whatever direction you may

be going? I can then speak to you as we walk, both without detaining you

here, and without intruding longer here myself.'

She looked embarrassed, but said, if he pleased. He made a pretence of

having mislaid his walking-stick, to give her time to set the bedstead

right, to answer her sister's impatient knock at the wall, and to say a

word softly to her uncle. Then he found it, and they went down-stairs;

she first, he following; the uncle standing at the stair-head, and

probably forgetting them before they had reached the ground floor.

Mr Cripples's pupils, who were by this time coming to school, desisted

from their morning recreation of cuffing one another with bags and

books, to stare with all the eyes they had at a stranger who had been

to see Dirty Dick. They bore the trying spectacle in silence, until the

mysterious visitor was at a safe distance; when they burst into pebbles

and yells, and likewise into reviling dances, and in all respects buried

the pipe of peace with so many savage ceremonies, that, if Mr Cripples

had been the chief of the Cripplewayboo tribe with his war-paint on,

they could scarcely have done greater justice to their education.

In the midst of this homage, Mr Arthur Clennam offered his arm to Little

Dorrit, and Little Dorrit took it. 'Will you go by the Iron Bridge,'

said he, 'where there is an escape from the noise of the street?' Little

Dorrit answered, if he pleased, and presently ventured to hope that he

would 'not mind' Mr Cripples's boys, for she had herself received

her education, such as it was, in Mr Cripples's evening academy. He

returned, with the best will in the world, that Mr Cripples's boys were

forgiven out of the bottom of his soul. Thus did Cripples unconsciously

become a master of the ceremonies between them, and bring them more

naturally together than Beau Nash might have done if they had lived

in his golden days, and he had alighted from his coach and six for the

purpose.

The morning remained squally, and the streets were miserably muddy, but

no rain fell as they walked towards the Iron Bridge. The little creature

seemed so young in his eyes, that there were moments when he found

himself thinking of her, if not speaking to her, as if she were a child.

Perhaps he seemed as old in her eyes as she seemed young in his.