uldn't talk. You'll stand behind that door, and
judge him for yourself. We don't ask to be believed on trust What! Your
worship doubts the room behind the door? Oh the suspicion of you rich
gentlefolks! Look at it, then.'

Her sharp eye had detected an involuntary expression of this feeling
on his part, which was not unreasonable under the circumstances. In
satisfaction of it she now took the candle to the door she spoke of. Mr
Dombey looked in; assured himself that it was an empty, crazy room; and
signed to her to put the light back in its place.

'How long,' he asked, 'before this person comes?'

'Not long,' she answered. 'Would your worship sit down for a few odd
minutes?'

He made no answer; but began pacing the room with an irresolute air, as
if he were undecided whether to remain or depart, and as if he had some
quarrel with himself for being there at all. But soon his tread grew
slower and heavier, and his face more sternly thoughtful; as the object
with which he had come, fixed itself in his mind, and dilated there
again.

While he thus walked up and down with his eyes on the ground, Mrs Brown,
in the chair from which she had risen to receive him, sat listening
anew. The monotony of his step, or the uncertainty of age, made her so
slow of hearing, that a footfall without had sounded in her daughter's
ears for some moments, and she had looked up hastily to warn her mother
of its approach, before the old woman was roused by it. But then she
started from her seat, and whispering 'Here he is!' hurried her visitor
to his place of observation, and put a bottle and glass upon the table,
with such alacrity, as to be ready to fling her arms round the neck of
Rob the Grinder on his appearance at the door.

'And here's my bonny boy,' cried Mrs Brown, 'at last!--oho, oho! You're
like my own son, Robby!'

'Oh! Misses Brown!' remonstrated the Grinder. 'Don't! Can't you be fond
of a cove without squeedging and throttling of him? Take care of the
birdcage in my hand, will you?'

'Thinks of a birdcage, afore me!' cried the old woman, apostrophizing
the ceiling. 'Me that feels more than a mother for him!'

'Well, I'm sure I'm very much obliged to you, Misses Brown,' said the
unfortunate youth, greatly aggravated; 'but you're so jealous of a
cove. I'm very fond of you myself, and all that, of course; but I don't
smother you, do I, Misses Brown?'

He looked and spoke as if he would have been far from objecting to do
so