n the nursery; and would
sometimes lapse into it suddenly, exclaiming that he was tired: even
while playing with Florence, or driving Miss Tox in single harness.
But at no time did he fall into it so surely, as when, his little chair
being carried down into his father's room, he sat there with him after
dinner, by the fire. They were the strangest pair at such a time that
ever firelight shone upon. Mr Dombey so erect and solemn, gazing at the
blare; his little image, with an old, old face, peering into the red
perspective with the fixed and rapt attention of a sage. Mr Dombey
entertaining complicated worldly schemes and plans; the little image
entertaining Heaven knows what wild fancies, half-formed thoughts, and
wandering speculations. Mr Dombey stiff with starch and arrogance; the
little image by inheritance, and in unconscious imitation. The two so
very much alike, and yet so monstrously contrasted.

On one of these occasions, when they had both been perfectly quiet for
a long time, and Mr Dombey only knew that the child was awake by
occasionally glancing at his eye, where the bright fire was sparkling
like a jewel, little Paul broke silence thus:

'Papa! what's money?'

The abrupt question had such immediate reference to the subject of Mr
Dombey's thoughts, that Mr Dombey was quite disconcerted.

'What is money, Paul?' he answered. 'Money?'

'Yes,' said the child, laying his hands upon the elbows of his little
chair, and turning the old face up towards Mr Dombey's; 'what is money?'

Mr Dombey was in a difficulty. He would have liked to give him
some explanation involving the terms circulating-medium, currency,
depreciation of currency', paper, bullion, rates of exchange, value of
precious metals in the market, and so forth; but looking down at the
little chair, and seeing what a long way down it was, he answered:
'Gold, and silver, and copper. Guineas, shillings, half-pence. You know
what they are?'

'Oh yes, I know what they are,' said Paul. 'I don't mean that, Papa. I
mean what's money after all?'

Heaven and Earth, how old his face was as he turned it up again towards
his father's!

'What is money after all!' said Mr Dombey, backing his chair a little,
that he might the better gaze in sheer amazement at the presumptuous
atom that propounded such an inquiry.

'I mean, Papa, what can it do?' returned Paul, folding his arms (they
were hardly long enough to fold), and looking at the fire, and up at
him,