The Old Curiosity Shop
‘Have we been worse off,’ resumed the child, ‘since you forgot these
cares, and we have been travelling on together? Have we not been much
better and happier without a home to shelter us, than ever we were in
that unhappy house, when they were on your mind?’
‘She speaks the truth,’ murmured the old man in the same tone as
before. ‘It must not turn me, but it is the truth; no doubt it is.’
‘Only remember what we have been since that bright morning when we
turned our backs upon it for the last time,’ said Nell, ‘only remember
what we have been since we have been free of all those miseries--what
peaceful days and quiet nights we have had--what pleasant times we have
known--what happiness we have enjoyed. If we have been tired or
hungry, we have been soon refreshed, and slept the sounder for it.
Think what beautiful things we have seen, and how contented we have
felt. And why was this blessed change?’
He stopped her with a motion of his hand, and bade her talk to him no
more just then, for he was busy. After a time he kissed her cheek,
still motioning her to silence, and walked on, looking far before him,
and sometimes stopping and gazing with a puckered brow upon the ground,
as if he were painfully trying to collect his disordered thoughts.
Once she saw tears in his eyes. When he had gone on thus for some
time, he took her hand in his as he was accustomed to do, with nothing
of the violence or animation of his late manner; and so, by degrees so
fine that the child could not trace them, he settled down into his
usual quiet way, and suffered her to lead him where she would.
When they presented themselves in the midst of the stupendous
collection, they found, as Nell had anticipated, that Mrs Jarley was
not yet out of bed, and that, although she had suffered some uneasiness
on their account overnight, and had indeed sat up for them until past
eleven o’clock, she had retired in the persuasion, that, being
overtaken by storm at some distance from home, they had sought the
nearest shelter, and would not return before morning. Nell immediately
applied herself with great assiduity to the decoration and preparation
of the room, and had the satisfaction of completing her task, and
dressing herself neatly, before the beloved of the Royal Family came
down to breakfast.
‘We haven’t had,’ said Mrs Jarley when the meal was over, ‘more than
eight of Miss Monflathers’s young ladies all the time we’ve been here,
and there’s twenty-six of ‘em, as I was told by the cook when I asked
her a question or two and put her on the free-list. We must try ‘em
with a parcel of new bills, and you shall take it, my dear, and see
what effect that has upon ‘em.’
The proposed expedition being one of paramount importance, Mrs Jarley
adjusted Nell’s bonnet with her own hands, and declaring that she
certainly did look very pretty, and reflected credit on the
establishment, dismissed her with many commendations, and certain
needful directions as to the turnings on the right which she was to
take, and the turnings on the left which she was to avoid. Thus
instructed, Nell had no difficulty in finding out Miss Monflathers’s
Boarding and Day Establishment, which was a large house, with a high
wall, and a large garden-gate with a large brass plate, and a small
grating through which Miss Monflathers’s parlour-maid inspected all
visitors before admitting them; for nothing in the shape of a man--no,
not even a milkman--was suffered, without special license, to pass that
gate. Even the tax-gatherer, who was stout, and wore spectacles and a
broad-brimmed hat, had the taxes handed through the grating. More
obdurate than gate of adamant or brass, this gate of Miss Monflathers’s
frowned on all mankind. The very butcher respected it as a gate of
mystery, and left off whistling when he rang the bell.
As Nell approached the awful door, it turned slowly upon its hinges
with a creaking noise, and, forth from the solemn grove beyond, came a
long file of young ladies, two and two, all with open books in their
hands, and some with parasols likewise. And last of the goodly
procession came Miss Monflathers, bearing herself a parasol of lilac
silk, and supported by two smiling teachers, each mortally envious of
the other, and devoted unto Miss Monflathers.
Confused by the looks and whispers of the girls, Nell stood with
downcast eyes and suffered the procession to pass on, until Miss
Monflathers, bringing up the rear, approached her, when she curtseyed
and presented her little packet; on receipt whereof Miss Monflathers
commanded that the line should halt.
‘You’re the wax-work child, are you not?’ said Miss Monflathers.
‘Yes, ma’am,’ replied Nell, colouring deeply, for the young ladies had
collected about her, and she was the centre on which all eyes were
fixed.
‘And don’t you think you must be a very wicked little child,’ said Miss
Monflathers, who was of rather uncertain temper, and lost no
opportunity of impressing moral truths upon the tender minds of the
young ladies, ‘to be a wax-work child at all?’
Poor Nell had never viewed her position in this light, and not knowing
what to say, remained silent, blushing more deeply than before.
‘Don’t you know,’ said Miss Monflathers, ‘that it’s very naughty and
unfeminine, and a perversion of the properties wisely and benignantly
transmitted to us, with expansive powers to be roused from their
dormant state through the medium of cultivation?’
The two teachers murmured their respectful approval of this
home-thrust, and looked at Nell as though they would have said that
there indeed Miss Monflathers had hit her very hard. Then they smiled
and glanced at Miss Monflathers, and then, their eyes meeting, they
exchanged looks which plainly said that each considered herself smiler
in ordinary to Miss Monflathers, and regarded the other as having no
right to smile, and that her so doing was an act of presumption and
impertinence.
‘Don’t you feel how naughty it is of you,’ resumed Miss Monflathers,
‘to be a wax-work child, when you might have the proud consciousness of
assisting, to the extent of your infant powers, the manufactures of
your country; of improving your mind by the constant contemplation of
the steam-engine; and of earning a comfortable and independent
subsistence of from two-and-ninepence to three shillings per week?
Don’t you know that the harder you are at work, the happier you are?’
‘“How doth the little--“’ murmured one of the teachers, in quotation
from Doctor Watts.
‘Eh?’ said Miss Monflathers, turning smartly round. ‘Who said that?’
Of course the teacher who had not said it, indicated the rival who had,
whom Miss Monflathers frowningly requested to hold her peace; by that
means throwing the informing teacher into raptures of joy.
‘The little busy bee,’ said Miss Monflathers, drawing herself up, ‘is
applicable only to genteel children.
“In books, or work, or healthful play”
is quite right as far as they are concerned; and the work means
painting on velvet, fancy needle-work, or embroidery. In such cases as
these,’ pointing to Nell, with her parasol, ‘and in the case of all
poor people’s children, we should read it thus:
“In work, work, work. In work alway
Let my first years be past,
That I may give for ev’ry day
Some good account at last.”’
A deep hum of applause rose not only from the two teachers, but from
all the pupils, who were equally astonished to hear Miss Monflathers
improvising after this brilliant style; for although she had been long
known as a politician, she had never appeared before as an original
poet. Just then somebody happened to discover that Nell was crying,
and all eyes were again turned towards her.
There were indeed tears in her eyes, and drawing out her handkerchief
to brush them away, she happened to let it fall. Before she could
stoop to pick it up, one young lady of about fifteen or sixteen, who
had been standing a little apart from the others, as though she had no
recognised place among them, sprang forward and put it in her hand.
She was gliding timidly away again, when she was arrested by the
governess.
‘It was Miss Edwards who did that, I KNOW,’ said Miss Monflathers
predictively. ‘Now I am sure that was Miss Edwards.’
It was Miss Edwards, and everybody said it was Miss Edwards, and Miss
Edwards herself admitted that it was.
‘Is it not,’ said Miss Monflathers, putting down her parasol to take a
severer view of the offender, ‘a most remarkable thing, Miss Edwards,
that you have an attachment to the lower classes which always draws you
to their sides; or, rather, is it not a most extraordinary thing that
all I say and do will not wean you from propensities which your
original station in life have unhappily rendered habitual to you, you
extremely vulgar-minded girl?’
‘I really intended no harm, ma’am,’ said a sweet voice. ‘It was a
momentary impulse, indeed.’
‘An impulse!’ repeated Miss Monflathers scornfully. ‘I wonder that you
presume to speak of impulses to me’--both the teachers assented--‘I am
astonished’--both the teachers were astonished--‘I suppose it is an
impulse which induces you to take the part of every grovelling and
debased person that comes in your way’--both the teachers supposed so
too.
‘But I would have you know, Miss Edwards,’ resumed the governess in a
tone of increased severity, ‘that you cannot be permitted--if it be
only for the sake of preserving a proper example and decorum in this
establishment--that you cannot be permitted, and that you shall not be
permitted, to fly in the face of your superiors in this exceedingly
gross manner. If you have no reason to feel a becoming pride before
wax-work children, there are young ladies here who have, and you must
either defer to those young ladies or leave the establishment, Miss
Edwards.’
This young lady, being motherless and poor, was apprenticed at the
school--taught for nothing--teaching others what she learnt, for
nothing--boarded for nothing--lodged for nothing--and set down and
rated as something immeasurably less than nothing, by all the dwellers
in the house. The servant-maids felt her inferiority, for they were
better treated; free to come and go, and regarded in their stations
with much more respect. The teachers were infinitely superior, for
they had paid to go to school in their time, and were paid now. The
pupils cared little for a companion who had no grand stories to tell
about home; no friends to come with post-horses, and be received in all
humility, with cake and wine, by the governess; no deferential servant
to attend and bear her home for the holidays; nothing genteel to talk
about, and nothing to display. But why was Miss Monflathers always
vexed and irritated with the poor apprentice--how did that come to pass?
Why, the gayest feather in Miss Monflathers’s cap, and the brightest
glory of Miss Monflathers’s school, was a baronet’s daughter--the real
live daughter of a real live baronet--who, by some extraordinary
reversal of the Laws of Nature, was not only plain in features but dull
in intellect, while the poor apprentice had both a ready wit, and a
handsome face and figure. It seems incredible. Here was Miss Edwards,
who only paid a small premium which had been spent long ago, every day
outshining and excelling the baronet’s daughter, who learned all the
extras (or was taught them all) and whose half-yearly bill came to
double that of any other young lady’s in the school, making no account
of the honour and reputation of her pupilage. Therefore, and because
she was a dependent, Miss Monflathers had a great dislike to Miss
Edwards, and was spiteful to her, and aggravated by her, and, when she
had compassion on little Nell, verbally fell upon and maltreated her as