Dombey and Son
There was a grand array of white waistcoats and cravats in the young
gentlemen’s bedrooms as evening approached; and such a smell of singed
hair, that Doctor Blimber sent up the footman with his compliments, and
wished to know if the house was on fire. But it was only the
hairdresser curling the young gentlemen, and over-heating his tongs in
the ardour of business.
When Paul was dressed—which was very soon done, for he felt unwell and
drowsy, and was not able to stand about it very long—he went down into
the drawing-room; where he found Doctor Blimber pacing up and down the
room full dressed, but with a dignified and unconcerned demeanour, as
if he thought it barely possible that one or two people might drop in
by and by. Shortly afterwards, Mrs Blimber appeared, looking lovely,
Paul thought; and attired in such a number of skirts that it was quite
an excursion to walk round her. Miss Blimber came down soon after her
Mama; a little squeezed in appearance, but very charming.
Mr Toots and Mr Feeder were the next arrivals. Each of these gentlemen
brought his hat in his hand, as if he lived somewhere else; and when
they were announced by the butler, Doctor Blimber said, “Ay, ay, ay!
God bless my soul!” and seemed extremely glad to see them. Mr Toots was
one blaze of jewellery and buttons; and he felt the circumstance so
strongly, that when he had shaken hands with the Doctor, and had bowed
to Mrs Blimber and Miss Blimber, he took Paul aside, and said, “What do
you think of this, Dombey?”
But notwithstanding this modest confidence in himself, Mr Toots
appeared to be involved in a good deal of uncertainty whether, on the
whole, it was judicious to button the bottom button of his waistcoat,
and whether, on a calm revision of all the circumstances, it was best
to wear his waistbands turned up or turned down. Observing that Mr
Feeder’s were turned up, Mr Toots turned his up; but the waistbands of
the next arrival being turned down, Mr Toots turned his down. The
differences in point of waistcoat-buttoning, not only at the bottom,
but at the top too, became so numerous and complicated as the arrivals
thickened, that Mr Toots was continually fingering that article of
dress, as if he were performing on some instrument; and appeared to
find the incessant execution it demanded, quite bewildering.
All the young gentlemen, tightly cravatted, curled, and pumped, and
with their best hats in their hands, having been at different times
announced and introduced, Mr Baps, the dancing-master, came,
accompanied by Mrs Baps, to whom Mrs Blimber was extremely kind and
condescending. Mr Baps was a very grave gentleman, with a slow and
measured manner of speaking; and before he had stood under the lamp
five minutes, he began to talk to Toots (who had been silently
comparing pumps with him) about what you were to do with your raw
materials when they came into your ports in return for your drain of
gold. Mr Toots, to whom the question seemed perplexing, suggested “Cook
’em.” But Mr Baps did not appear to think that would do.
Paul now slipped away from the cushioned corner of a sofa, which had
been his post of observation, and went downstairs into the tea-room to
be ready for Florence, whom he had not seen for nearly a fortnight, as
he had remained at Doctor Blimber’s on the previous Saturday and
Sunday, lest he should take cold. Presently she came: looking so
beautiful in her simple ball dress, with her fresh flowers in her hand,
that when she knelt down on the ground to take Paul round the neck and
kiss him (for there was no one there, but his friend and another young
woman waiting to serve out the tea), he could hardly make up his mind
to let her go again, or to take away her bright and loving eyes from
his face.
“But what is the matter, Floy?” asked Paul, almost sure that he saw a
tear there.
“Nothing, darling; nothing,” returned Florence.
Paul touched her cheek gently with his finger—and it was a tear! “Why,
Floy!” said he.
“We’ll go home together, and I’ll nurse you, love,” said Florence.
“Nurse me!” echoed Paul.
Paul couldn’t understand what that had to do with it, nor why the two
young women looked on so seriously, nor why Florence turned away her
face for a moment, and then turned it back, lighted up again with
smiles.
“Floy,” said Paul, holding a ringlet of her dark hair in his hand.
“Tell me, dear, Do you think I have grown old-fashioned?”
His sister laughed, and fondled him, and told him “No.”
“Because I know they say so,” returned Paul, “and I want to know what
they mean, Floy.”
But a loud double knock coming at the door, and Florence hurrying to
the table, there was no more said between them. Paul wondered again
when he saw his friend whisper to Florence, as if she were comforting
her; but a new arrival put that out of his head speedily.
It was Sir Barnet Skettles, Lady Skettles, and Master Skettles. Master
Skettles was to be a new boy after the vacation, and Fame had been
busy, in Mr Feeder’s room, with his father, who was in the House of
Commons, and of whom Mr Feeder had said that when he did catch the
Speaker’s eye (which he had been expected to do for three or four
years), it was anticipated that he would rather touch up the Radicals.
“And what room is this now, for instance?” said Lady Skettles to Paul’s
friend, “Melia.
“Doctor Blimber’s study, Ma’am,” was the reply.
Lady Skettles took a panoramic survey of it through her glass, and said
to Sir Barnet Skettles, with a nod of approval, “Very good.” Sir Barnet
assented, but Master Skettles looked suspicious and doubtful.
“And this little creature, now,” said Lady Skettles, turning to Paul.
“Is he one of the—”
“Young gentlemen, Ma’am; yes, Ma’am,” said Paul’s friend.
“And what is your name, my pale child?” said Lady Skettles.
“Dombey,” answered Paul.
Sir Barnet Skettles immediately interposed, and said that he had had
the honour of meeting Paul’s father at a public dinner, and that he
hoped he was very well. Then Paul heard him say to Lady Skettles,
“City—very rich—most respectable—Doctor mentioned it.” And then he said
to Paul, “Will you tell your good Papa that Sir Barnet Skettles
rejoiced to hear that he was very well, and sent him his best
compliments?”
“Yes, Sir,” answered Paul.
“That is my brave boy,” said Sir Barnet Skettles. “Barnet,” to Master
Skettles, who was revenging himself for the studies to come, on the
plum-cake, “this is a young gentleman you ought to know. This is a
young gentleman you may know, Barnet,” said Sir Barnet Skettles, with
an emphasis on the permission.
“What eyes! What hair! What a lovely face!” exclaimed Lady Skettles
softly, as she looked at Florence through her glass.
“My sister,” said Paul, presenting her.
The satisfaction of the Skettleses was now complete. And as Lady
Skettles had conceived, at first sight, a liking for Paul, they all
went upstairs together: Sir Barnet Skettles taking care of Florence,
and young Barnet following.
Young Barnet did not remain long in the background after they had
reached the drawing-room, for Dr Blimber had him out in no time,
dancing with Florence. He did not appear to Paul to be particularly
happy, or particularly anything but sulky, or to care much what he was
about; but as Paul heard Lady Skettles say to Mrs Blimber, while she
beat time with her fan, that her dear boy was evidently smitten to
death by that angel of a child, Miss Dombey, it would seem that
Skettles Junior was in a state of bliss, without showing it.
Little Paul thought it a singular coincidence that nobody had occupied
his place among the pillows; and that when he came into the room again,
they should all make way for him to go back to it, remembering it was
his. Nobody stood before him either, when they observed that he liked
to see Florence dancing, but they left the space in front quite clear,
so that he might follow her with his eyes. They were so kind, too, even
the strangers, of whom there were soon a great many, that they came and
spoke to him every now and then, and asked him how he was, and if his
head ached, and whether he was tired. He was very much obliged to them
for all their kindness and attention, and reclining propped up in his
corner, with Mrs Blimber and Lady Skettles on the same sofa, and
Florence coming and sitting by his side as soon as every dance was
ended, he looked on very happily indeed.
Florence would have sat by him all night, and would not have danced at
all of her own accord, but Paul made her, by telling her how much it
pleased him. And he told her the truth, too; for his small heart
swelled, and his face glowed, when he saw how much they all admired
her, and how she was the beautiful little rosebud of the room.
From his nest among the pillows, Paul could see and hear almost
everything that passed as if the whole were being done for his
amusement. Among other little incidents that he observed, he observed
Mr Baps the dancing-master get into conversation with Sir Barnet
Skettles, and very soon ask him, as he had asked Mr Toots, what you
were to do with your raw materials, when they came into your ports in
return for your drain of gold—which was such a mystery to Paul that he
was quite desirous to know what ought to be done with them. Sir Barnet
Skettles had much to say upon the question, and said it; but it did not
appear to solve the question, for Mr Baps retorted, Yes, but supposing
Russia stepped in with her tallows; which struck Sir Barnet almost
dumb, for he could only shake his head after that, and say, Why then
you must fall back upon your cottons, he supposed.
Sir Barnet Skettles looked after Mr Baps when he went to cheer up Mrs
Baps (who, being quite deserted, was pretending to look over the
music-book of the gentleman who played the harp), as if he thought him
a remarkable kind of man; and shortly afterwards he said so in those
words to Doctor Blimber, and inquired if he might take the liberty of
asking who he was, and whether he had ever been in the Board of Trade.
Doctor Blimber answered no, he believed not; and that in fact he was a
Professor of—”
“Of something connected with statistics, I’ll swear?” observed Sir
Barnet Skettles.
“Why no, Sir Barnet,” replied Doctor Blimber, rubbing his chin. “No,
not exactly.”
“Figures of some sort, I would venture a bet,” said Sir Barnet
Skettles.
“Why yes,” said Doctor Blimber, yes, but not of that sort. Mr Baps is a
very worthy sort of man, Sir Barnet, and—in fact he’s our Professor of
dancing.”
Paul was amazed to see that this piece of information quite altered Sir
Barnet Skettles’s opinion of Mr Baps, and that Sir Barnet flew into a
perfect rage, and glowered at Mr Baps over on the other side of the
room. He even went so far as to D— Mr Baps to Lady Skettles, in telling
her what had happened, and to say that it was like his most
con-sum-mate and con-foun-ded impudence.
There was another thing that Paul observed. Mr Feeder, after imbibing
several custard-cups of negus, began to enjoy himself. The dancing in
general was ceremonious, and the music rather solemn—a little like
church music in fact—but after the custard-cups, Mr Feeder told Mr
Toots that he was going to throw a little spirit into the thing. After
that, Mr Feeder not only began to dance as if he meant dancing and
nothing else, but secretly to stimulate the music to perform wild
tunes. Further, he became particular in his attentions to the ladies;
and dancing with Miss Blimber, whispered to her—whispered to
her!—though not so softly but that Paul heard him say this remarkable
poetry,
“Had I a heart for falsehood framed,
I ne’er could injure You!”
This, Paul heard him repeat to four young ladies, in succession. Well
might Mr Feeder say to Mr Toots, that he was afraid he should be the