th his while or in his humour. But
now he was ill at ease about her. He read nothing in her glance, when he
saw her later in the solemn house, of the passionate desire to run
clinging to him, and the dread of a repulse; the pitiable need in which
she stood of some assurance and encouragement. He saw nothing of this.

_II.--Mrs. Pipchin's_

In spite of his early promise, all the vigilance and care bestowed upon
him could not make little Paul a thriving boy. There was something wan
and wistful in his look, and he had a strange, old-fashioned, thoughtful
way of sitting brooding in his miniature armchair.

The medical practitioner recommended sea-air, and Mrs. Pipchin, who
conducted an infantile boarding house of a very select description at
Brighton, and whose scale of charges was high, was entrusted with the
care of Paul's health when he was little more than five years old.

Mrs. Pipchin was a marvellous ill-favoured, ill-conditioned old lady,
with a mottled face like bad marble, a hook nose, and a hard grey eye.
It was generally said that Mrs. Pipchin was a woman of system with
children, and no doubt she was. Certainly the wild ones went home tame
enough, after sojourning for a few months beneath her hospitable roof.

At this exemplary old lady Paul would sit staring in his little armchair
by the fire for any length of time. He was not fond of her, he was not
afraid of her.

Once she asked him, when they were alone, what he was thinking about.

"You," said Paul, without the least reserve. "I'm thinking how old you
must be."

"You mustn't say such things as that, young gentleman," returned the
dame.

"Why not?" asked Paul.

"Because it's not polite!" said Mrs. Pipchin, snappishly.

"Not polite?" said Paul.

"No! And remember the story of the little boy that was gored to death by
a mad bull for asking questions!"

"If the bull was mad," said Paul, "how did _he_ know that the boy had
asked questions? Nobody can go and whisper secrets to a mad bull. I
don't believe that story."

"You don't believe it, sir?"

"No," said Paul.

"Not if it should happen to have been a tame bull, you little infidel?"
said Mrs. Pipchin.

As Paul had not considered the subject in that light, he allowed himself
to be put down for the present.

Mr. Dombey came down to Brighton every Sunday, and Florence was her
brother's constant companion.

At first, Paul got no stronger, and a little carriage was procured for
him, in