ickness. 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 Boarding-House 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