“I shall not be in the town, I think, ma’am,” said the child.
“Not there!” cried Mrs. Jarley. “Then where will you be?”
“I—I—don’t quite know. I am not certain.”
“You don’t mean to say that you’re travelling about the country without knowing where you’re going to?” said the lady of the caravan. “What curious people you are! What line are you in? You looked to me at the races, child, as if you were quite out of your element, and had got there by accident.”
“We were there quite by accident,” returned Nell, confused by this abrupt questioning. “We are poor people, ma’am, and are only wandering about. We have nothing to do;—I wish we had.”
“You amaze me more and more,” said Mrs. Jarley, after remaining for some time as mute as one of her own figures. “Why, what do you call yourselves? Not beggars?”
“Indeed ma’am, I don’t know what else we are,” returned the child.
“Lord bless me,” said the lady of the caravan. “I never heard of such a thing. Who’d have thought it!”
She remained so long silent after this exclamation, that Nell feared she felt her having been induced to bestow her protection and conversation upon one so poor, to be an outrage upon her dignity that nothing could repair. This persuasion was rather confirmed than otherwise by the tone in which she at length broke silence and said,
“And yet you can read. And write too, I shouldn’t wonder?”
“Yes ma’am,” said the child, fearful of giving new offence by the confession.
“Well, and what a thing that is,” returned Mrs. Jarley. “I can’t!”
Nell said “indeed” in a tone which might imply, either that she was reasonably surprised to find the genuine and only Jarley, who was the delight of the Nobility and Gentry and the peculiar pet of the Royal Family, destitute of these familiar arts; or that she presumed so great a lady could scarcely stand in need of such ordinary accomplishments. In whatever way Mrs. Jarley received the response, it did not provoke her to further questioning, or tempt her into any more remarks at the time, for she relapsed into a thoughtful silence, and remained in that state so long that Nell withdrew to the other window and rejoined her grandfather, who was now awake.
At length the lady of the caravan shook off her fit of meditation, and, summoning the driver to come under the window at which she was seated, held a long conversation with him in a low tone of voice, as if she were asking his advice on an important point, and discussing the pros and cons of some very weighty matter. This conference at length concluded, she drew in her head again, and beckoned Nell to approach.
“And the old gentleman too,” said Mrs. Jarley; “for I want to have a word with him. Do you want a good situation for your granddaughter, master? If you do, I can put her in the way of getting one. What do you say?”
“I can’t leave her,” answered the old man. “We can’t separate. What would become of me without her?”
“I should have thought you were old enough to take care of yourself, if you ever will be,” retorted Mrs. Jarley sharply.
“But he never will be,” said the child in an earnest whisper. “I fear he never will be again. Pray do not speak harshly to him. We are very thankful to you,” she added aloud; “but neither of us could part from the other if all the wealth of the world were halved between us.”
Mrs. Jarley was a little disconcerted by this reception of her proposal, and looked at the old man, who tenderly took Nell’s hand and detained it in his own, as if she could have very well dispensed with his company or even his earthly existence. After an awkward pause, she thrust her head out of the window again, and had another conference with the driver upon some point on which they did not seem to agree quite so readily as on their former topic of discussion; but they concluded at last, and she addressed the grandfather again.
“If you’re really disposed to employ yourself,” said Mrs. Jarley, “there would be plenty for you to do in the way of helping to dust the figures, and take the checks, and so forth. What I want your granddaughter for, is to point ’em out to the company; they would be soon learnt, and she has a way with her that people wouldn’t think unpleasant, though she does come after me; for I’ve been always accustomed to go round with visitors myself, which I should keep on doing now, only that my spirits make a little ease absolutely necessary. It’s not a common offer, bear in mind,” said the lady, rising into the tone and manner in which she was accustomed to address her audiences; “it’s Jarley’s waxwork, remember. The duty’s very light and genteel, the company particular select, the exhibition takes place in assembly rooms, town-halls, large rooms at inns, or auction galleries. There is none of your open-air wagrancy at Jarley’s, recollect; there is no tarpaulin and sawdust at Jarley’s, remember. Every expectation held out in the handbills is realised to the utmost, and the whole forms an effect of imposing brilliancy hitherto unrivalled in this kingdom. Remember that the price of admission is only sixpence, and that this is an opportunity which may never occur again!”
Descending from the sublime when she had reached this point, to the details of common life, Mrs. Jarley remarked that with reference to salary she could pledge herself to no specific sum until she had sufficiently tested Nell’s abilities, and narrowly watched her in the performance of her duties. But board and lodging,
