church-book for a pillow. Arthur did not know of this
adventure till long afterward, for Little Dorrit would not tell him for
fear he should blame himself for letting them go home alone.

Little Dorrit had one other valuable friend beside Arthur at this time.
This was a rent collector named Pancks, who was really kind-hearted, but
who was compelled to squeeze rent money out of the poor by his master.
The latter looked so good and benevolent that people called him "The
Patriarch," but he was at heart a genuine skinflint, for whose meanness
Pancks got all the credit. Pancks was a short, wiry man, with a scrubby
chin and jet-black eyes, and when he walked or talked he puffed and blew
and snorted like a little steam-engine.

Little Dorrit used sometimes to go to sew at the house of "The
Patriarch," and Pancks often saw her there. One day he greatly surprised
her by asking to see the palm of her hand, and then he pretended to read
her fortune. He told her all about herself (which astonished her, for
she did not know that he knew anything of her history), and then, with
many mysterious puffs and winks, he told her she would finally be happy.
After that she seemed to meet Pancks wherever she went--at Mrs.
Clennam's and at the Marshalsea as well--but at such meetings he would
pretend not to know her. Only sometimes, when no one else was near, he
would whisper:

"I'm Pancks, the gipsy--fortune-telling."

[Illustration: Arthur Clennam calling on Little Dorrit and her father at
The Marshalsea

_See page 269_]

These strange actions puzzled Little Dorrit very much. But she was far
from guessing the truth: that Pancks had for some time been interested
(as had Arthur Clennam) in finding out how her father's affairs stood.
He had discovered thus, accidentally, that old Mr. Dorrit was probably
the heir at law to a great estate that had lain for years forgotten,
unclaimed and growing larger all the time. The question now was to prove
this, and this, Pancks, out of friendship for Little Dorrit, was busily
trying to do.

One day the rent-collector came to Arthur to tell him that he had
succeeded. The proof was all found. Mr. Dorrit's right was clear; all he
had to do was to sign his name to a paper, and the Marshalsea gates
would open and he would be free and a rich man.

Arthur found Little Dorrit and told her the glad tidings. They made her
almost faint for joy, although all her rejoicing was for her father.
Then he put her in