“A daughter of Momus,” Miss Tox softly suggested.
“Exactly so,” said Mrs. Chick; “but she is exceedingly attentive and useful, and not at all presumptuous; indeed I never saw a more biddable woman. If the dear child,” pursued Mrs. Chick, in the tone of one who was summing up what had been previously quite agreed upon, instead of saying it all for the first time, “is a little weakened by that last attack, and is not in quite such vigorous health as we could wish; and if he has some temporary weakness in his system, and does occasionally seem about to lose, for the moment, the use of his—”
Mrs. Chick was afraid to say limbs, after Mr. Dombey’s recent objection to bones, and therefore waited for a suggestion from Miss Tox, who, true to her office, hazarded “members.”
“Members!” repeated Mr. Dombey.
“I think the medical gentleman mentioned legs this morning, my dear Louisa, did he not?” said Miss Tox.
“Why, of course he did, my love,” retorted Mrs. Chick, mildly reproachful. “How can you ask me? You heard him. I say, if our dear Paul should lose, for the moment, the use of his legs, these are casualties common to many children at his time of life, and not to be prevented by any care or caution. The sooner you understand that, Paul, and admit that, the better.”
“Surely you must know, Louisa,” observed Mr. Dombey, “that I don’t question your natural devotion to, and regard for, the future head of my house. Mr. Pilkins saw Paul this morning, I believe?” said Mr. Dombey.
“Yes, he did,” returned his sister. “Miss Tox and myself were present. Miss Tox and myself are always present. We make a point of it. Mr. Pilkins has seen him for some days past, and a very clever man I believe him to be. He says it is nothing to speak of; which I can confirm, if that is any consolation; but he recommended, today, sea-air. Very wisely, Paul, I feel convinced.”
“Sea-air,” repeated Mr. Dombey, looking at his sister.
“There is nothing to be made uneasy by, in that,” said Mrs. Chick. “My George and Frederick were both ordered sea-air, when they were about his age; and I have been ordered it myself a great many times. I quite agree with you, Paul, that perhaps topics may be incautiously mentioned upstairs before him, which it would be as well for his little mind not to expatiate upon; but I really don’t see how that is to be helped, in the case of a child of his quickness. If he were a common child, there would be nothing in it. I must say I think, with Miss Tox, that a short absence from this house, the air of Brighton, and the bodily and mental training of so judicious a person as Mrs. Pipchin for instance—”
“Who is Mrs. Pipchin, Louisa?” asked Mr. Dombey; aghast at this familiar introduction of a name he had never heard before.
“Mrs. Pipchin, my dear Paul,” returned his sister, “is an elderly lady—Miss Tox knows her whole history—who has for some time devoted all the energies of her mind, with the greatest success, to the study and treatment of infancy, and who has been extremely well connected. Her husband broke his heart in—how did you say her husband broke his heart, my dear? I forget the precise circumstances.”
“In pumping water out of the Peruvian Mines,” replied Miss Tox.
“Not being a Pumper himself, of course,” said Mrs. Chick, glancing at her brother; and it really did seem necessary to offer the explanation, for Miss Tox had spoken of him as if he had died at the handle; “but having invested money in the speculation, which failed. I believe that Mrs. Pipchin’s management of children is quite astonishing. I have heard it commended in private circles ever since I was—dear me—how high!” Mrs. Chick’s eye wandered about the bookcase near the bust of Mr. Pitt, which was about ten feet from the ground.
“Perhaps I should say of Mrs. Pipchin, my dear Sir,” observed Miss Tox, with an ingenuous blush, “having been so pointedly referred to, that the encomium which has been passed upon her by your sweet sister is well merited. Many ladies and gentleman, now grown up to be interesting members of society, have been indebted to her care. The humble individual who addresses you was once under her charge. I believe juvenile nobility itself is no stranger to her establishment.”
“Do I understand that this respectable matron keeps an establishment, Miss Tox?” the Mr. Dombey, condescendingly.
“Why, I really don’t know,” rejoined that lady, “whether I am justified in calling it so. It is not a Preparatory School by any means. Should I express my meaning,” said Miss Tox, with peculiar sweetness, “if I designated it an infantine Boardinghouse of a very select description?”
“On an exceedingly limited and particular scale,” suggested Mrs. Chick, with a glance at her brother.
“Oh! Exclusion itself!” said Miss Tox.
There was something in this. Mrs. Pipchin’s husband having broken his heart of the Peruvian mines was good. It had a rich sound. Besides, Mr. Dombey was in a state almost amounting to consternation at the idea of Paul remaining where he was one hour after his removal had been recommended by the medical practitioner. It was a stoppage and delay upon the road the child must traverse, slowly at the best, before the goal was reached. Their recommendation of Mrs. Pipchin had great weight with him; for he knew that they were jealous of any interference with their charge, and he never for a moment took it into account that they might be solicitous to divide a responsibility, of which he had, as shown just now, his own established views. Broke his heart of the Peruvian mines, mused Mr. Dombey. Well! a very
