When it was all over, he again gave his arm to Miss Tox, and conducted her to the vestry, where he informed the clergyman how much pleasure it would have given him to have solicited the honour of his company at dinner, but for the unfortunate state of his household affairs. The register signed, and the fees paid, and the pew-opener (whose cough was very bad again) remembered, and the beadle gratified, and the sexton (who was accidentally on the doorsteps, looking with great interest at the weather) not forgotten, they got into the carriage again, and drove home in the same bleak fellowship.
There they found Mr. Pitt turning up his nose at a cold collation, set forth in a cold pomp of glass and silver, and looking more like a dead dinner lying in state than a social refreshment. On their arrival Miss Tox produced a mug for her godson, and Mr. Chick a knife and fork and spoon in a case. Mr. Dombey also produced a bracelet for Miss Tox; and, on the receipt of this token, Miss Tox was tenderly affected.
“Mr. John,” said Mr. Dombey, “will you take the bottom of the table, if you please? What have you got there, Mr. John?”
“I have got a cold fillet of veal here, Sir,” replied Mr. Chick, rubbing his numbed hands hard together. “What have you got there, Sir?”
“This,” returned Mr. Dombey, “is some cold preparation of calf’s head, I think. I see cold fowls—ham—patties—salad—lobster. Miss Tox will do me the honour of taking some wine? Champagne to Miss Tox.”
There was a toothache in everything. The wine was so bitter cold that it forced a little scream from Miss Tox, which she had great difficulty in turning into a “Hem!” The veal had come from such an airy pantry, that the first taste of it had struck a sensation as of cold lead to Mr. Chick’s extremities. Mr. Dombey alone remained unmoved. He might have been hung up for sale at a Russian fair as a specimen of a frozen gentleman.
The prevailing influence was too much even for his sister. She made no effort at flattery or small talk, and directed all her efforts to looking as warm as she could.
“Well, Sir,” said Mr. Chick, making a desperate plunge, after a long silence, and filling a glass of sherry; “I shall drink this, if you’ll allow me, Sir, to little Paul.”
“Bless him!” murmured Miss Tox, taking a sip of wine.
“Dear little Dombey!” murmured Mrs. Chick.
“Mr. John,” said Mr. Dombey, with severe gravity, “my son would feel and express himself obliged to you, I have no doubt, if he could appreciate the favour you have done him. He will prove, in time to come, I trust, equal to any responsibility that the obliging disposition of his relations and friends, in private, or the onerous nature of our position, in public, may impose upon him.”
The tone in which this was said admitting of nothing more, Mr. Chick relapsed into low spirits and silence. Not so Miss Tox, who, having listened to Mr. Dombey with even a more emphatic attention than usual, and with a more expressive tendency of her head to one side, now leant across the table, and said to Mrs. Chick softly:
“Louisa!”
“My dear,” said Mrs. Chick.
“Onerous nature of our position in public may—I have forgotten the exact term.”
“Expose him to,” said Mrs. Chick.
“Pardon me, my dear,” returned Miss Tox, “I think not. It was more rounded and flowing. Obliging disposition of relations and friends in private, or onerous nature of position in public—may—impose upon him!”
“Impose upon him, to be sure,” said Mrs. Chick.
Miss Tox struck her delicate hands together lightly, in triumph; and added, casting up her eyes, “eloquence indeed!”
Mr. Dombey, in the meanwhile, had issued orders for the attendance of Richards, who now entered curtseying, but without the baby; Paul being asleep after the fatigues of the morning. Mr. Dombey, having delivered a glass of wine to this vassal, addressed her in the following words: Miss Tox previously settling her head on one side, and making other little arrangements for engraving them on her heart.
“During the six months or so, Richards, which have seen you an inmate of this house, you have done your duty. Desiring to connect some little service to you with this occasion, I considered how I could best effect that object, and I also advised with my sister, Mrs.—”
“Chick,” interposed the gentleman of that name.
“Oh, hush if you please!” said Miss Tox.
“I was about to say to you, Richards,” resumed Mr. Dombey, with an appalling glance at Mr. John, “that I was further assisted in my decision, by the recollection of a conversation I held with your husband in this room, on the occasion of your being hired, when he disclosed to me the melancholy fact that your family, himself at the head, were sunk and steeped in ignorance.”
Richards quailed under the magnificence of the reproof.
“I am far from being friendly,” pursued Mr. Dombey, “to what is called by persons of levelling sentiments, general education. But it is necessary that the inferior classes should continue to be taught to know their position, and to conduct themselves properly. So far I approve of schools. Having the power of nominating a child on the foundation of an ancient establishment, called (from a worshipful company) the Charitable Grinders; where not only is a wholesome education bestowed upon the scholars, but where a dress and badge is likewise provided for them; I have (first communicating, through Mrs. Chick, with your family) nominated your eldest son to an existing vacancy; and he has this day, I am informed, assumed the habit. The number of her son, I believe,” said Mr. Dombey, turning to his sister and speaking of the
