something in his
mind prejudicial to the family dignity; that he might have even got wind
of some Collegiate joke before he came into the service, and might be
derisively reviving its remembrance at the present moment. If Tinkler
had happened to smile, however faintly and innocently, nothing would
have persuaded Mr Dorrit, to the hour of his death, but that this was
the case. As Tinkler happened, however, very fortunately for himself, to
be of a serious and composed countenance, he escaped the secret danger
that threatened him. And as on his return--when Mr Dorrit eyed him
again--he announced Miss Amy as if she had come to a funeral, he left a
vague impression on Mr Dorrit's mind that he was a well-conducted young
fellow, who had been brought up in the study of his Catechism by a
widowed mother.

'Amy,' said Mr Dorrit, 'you have just now been the subject of some
conversation between myself and Mrs General. We agree that you scarcely
seem at home here. Ha--how is this?'

A pause.

'I think, father, I require a little time.'

'Papa is a preferable mode of address,' observed Mrs General. 'Father is
rather vulgar, my dear. The word Papa, besides, gives a pretty form to
the lips. Papa, potatoes, poultry, prunes, and prism are all very
good words for the lips: especially prunes and prism. You will find it
serviceable, in the formation of a demeanour, if you sometimes say to
yourself in company--on entering a room, for instance--Papa, potatoes,
poultry, prunes and prism, prunes and prism.'

'Pray, my child,' said Mr Dorrit, 'attend to the--hum--precepts of Mrs
General.'

Poor Little Dorrit, with a rather forlorn glance at that eminent
varnisher, promised to try.

'You say, Amy,' pursued Mr Dorrit, 'that you think you require time.
Time for what?'

Another pause.

'To become accustomed to the novelty of my life, was all I meant,' said
Little Dorrit, with her loving eyes upon her father; whom she had very
nearly addressed as poultry, if not prunes and prism too, in her desire
to submit herself to Mrs General and please him.

Mr Dorrit frowned, and looked anything but pleased. 'Amy,' he returned,
'it appears to me, I must say, that you have had abundance of time for
that. Ha--you surprise me. You disappoint me. Fanny has conquered any
such little difficulties, and--hum--why not you?'

'I hope I shall do better soon,' said Little Dorrit.

'I hope so,' returned her father. 'I--ha--I most devoutly hope so, Amy.
I s