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a--hum--gondola for that purpose. I am sorry to have forgotten this.

Pray remind me of them to-morrow.'

Little Dorrit was not without doubts how Mr Henry Gowan might take their

patronage; but she promised not to fail in the reminder.

'Pray, does Mr Henry Gowan paint--ha--Portraits?' inquired Mr Dorrit.

Mr Sparkler opined that he painted anything, if he could get the job.

'He has no particular walk?' said Mr Dorrit.

Mr Sparkler, stimulated by Love to brilliancy, replied that for a

particular walk a man ought to have a particular pair of shoes; as, for

example, shooting, shooting-shoes; cricket, cricket-shoes. Whereas, he

believed that Henry Gowan had no particular pair of shoes.

'No speciality?' said Mr Dorrit.

This being a very long word for Mr Sparkler, and his mind being

exhausted by his late effort, he replied, 'No, thank you. I seldom take

it.'

'Well!' said Mr Dorrit. 'It would be very agreeable to me to present

a gentleman so connected, with some--ha--Testimonial of my desire to

further his interests, and develop the--hum--germs of his genius. I

think I must engage Mr Gowan to paint my picture. If the result should

be--ha--mutually satisfactory, I might afterwards engage him to try his

hand upon my family.'

The exquisitely bold and original thought presented itself to Mr

Sparkler, that there was an opening here for saying there were some of

the family (emphasising 'some' in a marked manner) to whom no painter

could render justice. But, for want of a form of words in which to

express the idea, it returned to the skies.

This was the more to be regretted as Miss Fanny greatly applauded the

notion of the portrait, and urged her papa to act upon it. She surmised,

she said, that Mr Gowan had lost better and higher opportunities by

marrying his pretty wife; and Love in a cottage, painting pictures for

dinner, was so delightfully interesting, that she begged her papa to

give him the commission whether he could paint a likeness or not: though

indeed both she and Amy knew he could, from having seen a speaking

likeness on his easel that day, and having had the opportunity of

comparing it with the original. These remarks made Mr Sparkler (as

perhaps they were intended to do) nearly distracted; for while on

the one hand they expressed Miss Fanny's susceptibility of the tender

passion, she herself showed such an innocent unconsciousness of his

admiration that his eyes goggled in his head with jealousy of an unknown

rival.

Descending into the sea again after dinner, and ascending out of it

at the Opera staircase, preceded by one of their gondoliers, like an

attendant Merman, with a great linen lantern, they entered their box,

and Mr Sparkler entered on an evening of agony. The theatre being

dark, and the box light, several visitors lounged in during the

representation; in whom Fanny was so interested, and in conversation

with whom she fell into such charming attitudes, as she had little

confidences with them, and little disputes concerning the identity of

people in distant boxes, that the wretched Sparkler hated all mankind.

But he had two consolations at the close of the performance. She gave

him her fan to hold while she adjusted her cloak, and it was his

blessed privilege to give her his arm down-stairs again. These crumbs of

encouragement, Mr Sparkler thought, would just keep him going; and it is

not impossible that Miss Dorrit thought so too.

The Merman with his light was ready at the box-door, and other Mermen

with other lights were ready at many of the doors. The Dorrit Merman

held his lantern low, to show the steps, and Mr Sparkler put on another

heavy set of fetters over his former set, as he watched her radiant

feet twinkling down the stairs beside him. Among the loiterers here, was

Blandois of Paris. He spoke, and moved forward beside Fanny.

Little Dorrit was in front with her brother and Mrs General (Mr Dorrit

had remained at home), but on the brink of the quay they all came

together. She started again to find Blandois close to her, handing Fanny

into the boat.

'Gowan has had a loss,' he said, 'since he was made happy to-day by a

visit from fair ladies.'

'A loss?' repeated Fanny, relinquished by the bereaved Sparkler, and

taking her seat.

'A loss,' said Blandois. 'His dog Lion.'

Little Dorrit's hand was in his, as he spoke.

'He is dead,' said Blandois.

'Dead?' echoed Little Dorrit. 'That noble dog?'

'Faith, dear ladies!' said Blandois, smiling and shrugging his

shoulders, 'somebody has poisoned that noble dog. He is as dead as the

Doges!'

CHAPTER 7. Mostly, Prunes and Prism

Mrs General, always on her coach-box keeping the proprieties well

together, took pains to form a surface on her very dear young friend,

and Mrs General's very dear young friend tried hard to receive it. Hard

as she had tried in her laborious life to attain many ends, she had

never tried harder than she did now, to be varnished by Mrs General. It

made her anxious and ill at ease to be operated upon by that smoothing

hand, it is true; but she submitted herself to the family want in

its greatness as she had submitted herself to the family want in its

littleness, and yielded to her own inclinations in this thing no more

than she had yielded to her hunger itself, in the days when she had

saved her dinner that her father might have his supper.

One comfort that she had under the Ordeal by General was more

sustaining to her, and made her more grateful than to a less devoted

and affectionate spirit, not habituated to her struggles and sacrifices,

might appear quite reasonable; and, indeed, it may often be observed in

life, that spirits like Little Dorrit do not appear to reason half

as carefully as the folks who get the better of them. The continued

kindness of her sister was this comfort to Little Dorrit. It was nothing

to her that the kindness took the form of tolerant patronage; she was

used to that. It was nothing to her that it kept her in a tributary

position, and showed her in attendance on the flaming car in which Miss

Fanny sat on an elevated seat, exacting homage; she sought no better

place. Always admiring Fanny's beauty, and grace, and readiness, and not

now asking herself how much of her disposition to be strongly attached

to Fanny was due to her own heart, and how much to Fanny's, she gave her

all the sisterly fondness her great heart contained.

The wholesale amount of Prunes and Prism which Mrs General infused into

the family life, combined with the perpetual plunges made by Fanny into

society, left but a very small residue of any natural deposit at the

bottom of the mixture. This rendered confidences with Fanny doubly

precious to Little Dorrit, and heightened the relief they afforded her.

'Amy,' said Fanny to her one night when they were alone, after a day so

tiring that Little Dorrit was quite worn out, though Fanny would have

taken another dip into society with the greatest pleasure in life, 'I

am going to put something into your little head. You won't guess what it

is, I suspect.'

'I don't think that's likely, dear,' said Little Dorrit.

'Come, I'll give you a clue, child,' said Fanny. 'Mrs General.'

Prunes and Prism, in a thousand combinations, having been wearily in the

ascendant all day--everything having been surface and varnish and show

without substance--Little Dorrit looked as if she had hoped that Mrs

General was safely tucked up in bed for some hours.

'Now, can you guess, Amy?' said Fanny.

'No, dear. Unless I have done anything,' said Little Dorrit, rather

alarmed, and meaning anything calculated to crack varnish and ruffle

surface.

Fanny was so very much amused by the misgiving, that she took up her

favourite fan (being then seated at her dressing-table with her armoury

of cruel instruments about her, most of them reeking from the heart

of Sparkler), and tapped her sister frequently on the nose with it,

laughing all the time.

'Oh, our Amy, our Amy!' said Fanny. 'What a timid little goose our Amy

is! But this is nothing to laugh at. On the contrary, I am very cross,

my dear.'

'As it is not with me, Fanny, I don't mind,' returned her sister,

smiling.

'Ah! But I do mind,' said Fanny, 'and so will you, Pet, when I enlighten

you. Amy, has it never struck you that somebody is monstrously polite to

Mrs General?'

'Everybody is polite to Mrs General,' said Little Dorrit. 'Because--'

'Because she freezes them into it?' interrupted Fanny. 'I don't mean

that; quite different from that. Come! Has it never struck you, Amy,

that Pa is monstrously polite to Mrs General.'

Amy, murmuring 'No,' looked quite confounded. 'No; I dare say not. But

he is,' said Fanny. 'He is, Amy. And remember my words. Mrs General has

designs on Pa!'

'Dear Fanny, do you think it possible that Mrs General has designs on

any one?'

'Do I think it possible?' retorted Fanny. 'My love, I know it. I tell

you she has designs on Pa. And more than that, I tell you Pa considers

her such a wonder, such a paragon of accomplishment, and such an

acquisition to our family, that he is ready to get himself into a state

of perfect infatuation with her at any moment. And that opens a pretty

picture of things, I hope? Think of me with Mrs General for a Mama!'

Little Dorrit did not reply, 'Think of me with Mrs General for a Mama;'

but she looked anxious, and seriously inquired what had led Fanny to

these conclusions.

'Lord, my darling,' said Fanny, tartly. 'You might as well ask me how

I know when a man is struck with myself! But, of course I do know. It

happens pretty often: but I always know it. I know this in much the same

way, I suppose. At all events, I know it.'

'You never heard Papa say anything?'

'Say anything?' repeated Fanny. 'My dearest, darling child, what

necessity has he had, yet awhile, to say anything?'

'And you have never heard Mrs General say anything?' 'My goodness me,

Amy,' returned Fanny, 'is she the sort of woman to say anything? Isn't

it perfectly plain and clear that she has nothing to do at present but

to hold herself upright, keep her aggravating gloves on, and go sweeping

about? Say anything! If she had the ace of trumps in her hand at whist,

she wouldn't say anything, child. It would come out when she played it.'

'At least, you may be mistaken, Fanny. Now, may you not?'

'O yes, I MAY be,' said Fanny, 'but I am not. However, I am glad you

can contemplate such an escape, my dear, and I am glad that you can take

this for the present with sufficient coolness to think of such a chance.

It makes me hope that you may be able to bear the connection. I should

not be able to bear it, and I should not try.

I'd marry young Sparkler first.'

'O, you would never marry him, Fanny, under any circumstances.'

'Upon my word, my dear,' rejoined that young lady with exceeding

indifference, 'I wouldn't positively answer even for that. There's

no knowing what might happen. Especially as I should have many

opportunities, afterwards, of treating that woman, his mother, in her

own style. Which I most decidedly should not be slow to avail myself of,

Amy.'

No more passed between the sisters then; but what had passed gave the

two subjects of Mrs General and Mr Sparkler great prominence in Little

Dorrit's mind, and thenceforth she thought very much of both.

Mrs General, having long ago formed her own surface to such perfection

that it hid whatever was below it (if anything), no observation was to

be made in that quarter. Mr Dorrit was undeniably very polite to her

and had a high opinion of her; but Fanny, impetuous at most times, might

easily be wrong for all that.

Whereas, the Sparkler question was on the different footing that any one

could see what was going on there, and Little Dorrit saw it and pondered

on it with many doubts and wonderings.

The devotion of Mr Sparkler was only to be equalled by the caprice

and cruelty of his enslaver. Sometimes she would prefer him to such

distinction of notice, that he would chuckle aloud with joy; next day,

or next hour, she would overlook him so completely, and drop him into

such an abyss of obscurity, that he would groan under a weak pretence of

coughing. The constancy of his attendance never touched Fanny: though he

was so inseparable from Edward, that, when that gentleman wished for

a change of society, he was under the irksome necessity of gliding out

like a conspirator in disguised boats and by secret doors and back ways;

though he was so solicitous to know how Mr Dorrit was, that he called

every other day to inquire, as if Mr Dorrit were the prey of an

intermittent fever; though he was so constantly being paddled up and

down before the principal windows, that he might have been supposed to

have made a wager for a large stake to be paddled a thousand miles in

a thousand hours; though whenever the gondola of his mistress left the

gate, the gondola of Mr Sparkler shot out from some watery ambush

and gave chase, as if she were a fair smuggler and he a custom-house

officer. It was probably owing to this fortification of the natural

strength of his constitution with so much exposure to the air, and the

salt sea, that Mr Sparkler did not pine outwardly; but, whatever the

cause, he was so far from having any prospect of moving his mistress by

a languishing state of health, that he grew bluffer every day, and that

peculiarity in his appearance of seeming rather a swelled boy than

a young man, became developed to an extraordinary degree of ruddy

puffiness.

Blandois calling to pay his respects, Mr Dorrit received him with