constant pains and care had made it neat, and even, after its kind,
comfortable. All the while the bell was ringing, and the uncle was
anxious to go. 'Come, Fanny, come, Fanny,' he said, with his ragged
clarionet case under his arm; 'the lock, child, the lock!'

Fanny bade her father good night, and whisked off airily. Tip had
already clattered down-stairs. 'Now, Mr Clennam,' said the uncle,
looking back as he shuffled out after them, 'the lock, sir, the lock.'

Mr Clennam had two things to do before he followed; one, to offer his
testimonial to the Father of the Marshalsea, without giving pain to his
child; the other to say something to that child, though it were but a
word, in explanation of his having come there.

'Allow me,' said the Father, 'to see you down-stairs.'

She had slipped out after the rest, and they were alone. 'Not on any
account,' said the visitor, hurriedly. 'Pray allow me to--' chink,
chink, chink.

'Mr Clennam,' said the Father, 'I am deeply, deeply--' But his visitor
had shut up his hand to stop the clinking, and had gone down-stairs with
great speed.

He saw no Little Dorrit on his way down, or in the yard. The last two or
three stragglers were hurrying to the lodge, and he was following,
when he caught sight of her in the doorway of the first house from the
entrance. He turned back hastily.

'Pray forgive me,' he said, 'for speaking to you here; pray forgive me
for coming here at all! I followed you to-night. I did so, that I might
endeavour to render you and your family some service. You know the
terms on which I and my mother are, and may not be surprised that I
have preserved our distant relations at her house, lest I should
unintentionally make her jealous, or resentful, or do you any injury in
her estimation. What I have seen here, in this short time, has greatly
increased my heartfelt wish to be a friend to you. It would recompense
me for much disappointment if I could hope to gain your confidence.'

She was scared at first, but seemed to take courage while he spoke to
her.

'You are very good, sir. You speak very earnestly to me. But I--but I
wish you had not watched me.'

He understood the emotion with which she said it, to arise in her
father's behalf; and he respected it, and was silent.

'Mrs Clennam has been of great service to me; I don't know what we
should have done without the employment she has given me; I am afraid
it may not be a good return to become secret with