LITMIR.BIZ

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me for a stupid, clumsy laboring-boy.

      “You say nothing of her,” remarked Miss Havisham to me. “She says many hard things of you, but you say nothing of her. What do you think of her?”

      “I don’t like to say,” I stammered.

      “Tell me in my ear,” said Miss Havisham, bending down.

      “I think she is very proud,” I replied, in a whisper.

      “Anything else?”

      “I think she is very pretty.”

      “Anything else?”

      “I think she is very insulting.”

      “Anything else?”

      “I think I should like to go home.”

      “And never see her again, though she is so pretty?”

      “I am not sure that I shouldn’t like to see her again, but I should like to go home now.”

      “You shall go soon,” said Miss Havisham, aloud. “Play the game out.[37]”

      I played the game to an end with Estella, and she beggared me. She threw the cards down on the table.

      “When shall I have you here again?” said Miss Havisham. “Let me think.”

      I was beginning to remind her that today was Wednesday.

      “I know nothing of days of the week; I know nothing of weeks of the year. Come again after six days. You hear?”

      “Yes, ma’am.”

      “Estella, take him down. Let him have something to eat. Go, Pip.”

      I followed the candle down, as I had followed the candle up, and she stood it in the place where we had found it. She opened the side entrance.

      “You are to wait here, you boy,” said Estella; and disappeared and closed the door.

      She came back, with some bread and meat and a little mug of beer. She put the mug down on the stones of the yard, and gave me the bread and meat without looking at me, as insolently as if I were a dog in disgrace. I was so humiliated, hurt, offended, angry, sorry. Tears started to my eyes. The moment they sprang there, the girl looked at me with a quick delight. This gave me power to keep them back and to look at her. She gave a contemptuous toss and left me.

      But when she was gone, I looked about me for a place to hide my face in and cried. As I cried, I kicked the wall, and took a hard twist at my hair.

      Then I noticed Estella. She gave me a triumphant glance in passing me.

      “Why don’t you cry?”

      “Because I don’t want to.”

      “You do,” said she. “You have been crying, and you are near crying again now.”

      She laughed contemptuously, pushed me out, and locked the gate upon me. I went straight to Mr. Pumblechook’s, and was immensely glad to find him not at home. So on what day I was wanted at Miss Havisham’s again, I walked to our forge, remembering that I was a common laboring-boy; that my hands were coarse; that my boots were thick.

      Chapter 9

      When I reached home, my sister was very curious to know all about Miss Havisham’s, and asked a number of questions. I felt convinced that if I described Miss Havisham’s as my eyes had seen it, I should not be understood. Consequently, I said as little as I could.

      The worst of it was that that old Pumblechook came gaping over in his chaise-cart at tea-time, to have the details divulged to him.

      “Well, boy,” Uncle Pumblechook began, as soon as he was seated in the chair of honor[38] by the fire. “How did you get on up town?[39]”

      I answered, “Pretty well, sir,” and my sister shook her fist at me.

      “Pretty well?” Mr. Pumblechook repeated. “Pretty well is no answer. Tell us what you mean by pretty well, boy?”

      I reflected for some time, and then answered as if I had discovered a new idea, “I mean pretty well.”

      My sister with an exclamation of impatience was going to fly at me, – I had no shadow of defence, for Joe was busy in the forge – when Mr. Pumblechook interposed with “No! Don’t lose your temper. Leave this lad to me, ma’am; leave this lad to me.” Mr. Pumblechook then turned me towards him, as if he were going to cut my hair, and said,

      “First (to get our thoughts in order): Forty-three pence?[40]”

      To which I replied, after a long interval of reflection, “I don’t know.” And I was so aggravated that I almost doubt if I did know.

      Mr. Pumblechook said, “Is forty-three pence seven and sixpence three fardens, for instance?[41]”

      “Yes!” said I. The answer spoilt his joke, and brought him to a dead stop.

      “Boy! What like is Miss Havisham?[42]” Mr. Pumblechook began again when he had recovered; folding his arms tight on his chest and applying the screw.

      “Very tall and dark,” I told him.

      “Is she, uncle?” asked my sister.

      Mr. Pumblechook winked assent; from which I at once inferred that he had never seen Miss Havisham, for she was nothing of the kind.

      “Good!” said Mr. Pumblechook. (“This is the way to have him,[43] I think, Mum!”)

      “I am sure, uncle,” returned Mrs. Joe, “I wish you had him always; you know so well how to deal with him.”

      “Now, boy! What was she a doing of, when you went in today?” asked Mr. Pumblechook.

      “She was sitting,” I answered, “in a black velvet coach.”

      Mr. Pumblechook and Mrs. Joe stared at one another – as they well might – and both repeated, “In a black velvet coach?”

      “Yes,” said I. “And Miss Estella – that’s her niece, I think – handed her in cake and wine at the coach-window, on a gold plate. And we all had cake and wine on gold plates. And I got up behind the coach to eat mine, because she told me to.”

      “Was anybody else there?” asked Mr. Pumblechook.

      “Four dogs,” said I.

      “Large or small?”

      “Immense,” said I. “And they fought for veal-cutlets out of a silver basket.”

      Mr. Pumblechook and Mrs. Joe stared at one another again, in utter amazement. I was perfectly frantic and would have told them anything.

      “Where was this coach, in the name of gracious?[44]” asked my sister.

      “In Miss Havisham’s room.” They stared again. “But there weren’t any horses to it.”

      “Can this be possible, uncle?” asked Mrs. Joe. “What can the boy mean?”

      “I’ll tell you, Mum,” said Mr. Pumblechook. “My opinion is, it’s a sedan-chair.[45] She’s flighty, you know – very flighty – quite flighty enough to pass her days in a sedan-chair.”

      “Did you ever see her in it, uncle?” asked Mrs. Joe.

      “How could I,” he returned, “when I never see her in my life?”

      “Goodness, uncle! And yet you have spoken to her?”

      “Why, don’t you know,” said Mr. Pumblechook, “that when I have been there, I have been took up to the outside

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