r of the Marshalsea, even humming a tune, and wearing his black
velvet cap a little on one side, so much improved were his spirits, went
down into the yard, and found his old pensioner standing there hat in
hand just within the gate, as he had stood all this time. 'Come, Nandy!'
said he, with great suavity. 'Come up-stairs, Nandy; you know the way;
why don't you come up-stairs?' He went the length, on this occasion,
of giving him his hand and saying, 'How are you, Nandy? Are you pretty
well?' To which that vocalist returned, 'I thank you, honoured sir, I am
all the better for seeing your honour.' As they went along the yard, the
Father of the Marshalsea presented him to a Collegian of recent date.
'An old acquaintance of mine, sir, an old pensioner.' And then said, 'Be
covered, my good Nandy; put your hat on,' with great consideration.

His patronage did not stop here; for he charged Maggy to get the tea
ready, and instructed her to buy certain tea-cakes, fresh butter,
eggs, cold ham, and shrimps: to purchase which collation he gave her a
bank-note for ten pounds, laying strict injunctions on her to be careful
of the change. These preparations were in an advanced stage of progress,
and his daughter Amy had come back with her work, when Clennam presented
himself; whom he most graciously received, and besought to join their
meal.

'Amy, my love, you know Mr Clennam even better than I have the happiness
of doing. Fanny, my dear, you are acquainted with Mr Clennam.' Fanny
acknowledged him haughtily; the position she tacitly took up in all such
cases being that there was a vast conspiracy to insult the family by not
understanding it, or sufficiently deferring to it, and here was one of
the conspirators.

'This, Mr Clennam, you must know, is an old pensioner of mine, Old
Nandy, a very faithful old man.' (He always spoke of him as an object
of great antiquity, but he was two or three years younger than himself.)
'Let me see. You know Plornish, I think? I think my daughter Amy has
mentioned to me that you know poor Plornish?'

'O yes!' said Arthur Clennam.

'Well, sir, this is Mrs Plornish's father.'

'Indeed? I am glad to see him.'

'You would be more glad if you knew his many good qualities, Mr
Clennam.'

'I hope I shall come to know them through knowing him,' said Arthur,
secretly pitying the bowed and submissive figure.

'It is a holiday with him, and he comes to see his old friends, who are
always glad to see hi