g them. He is a very creditable artist
himself. He will be delighted, I am sure, with Mrs Granger's taste and
skill.'

'Damme, Sir!' cried Major Bagstock, 'my opinion is, that you're the
admirable Carker, and can do anything.'

'Oh!' smiled Carker, with humility, 'you are much too sanguine, Major
Bagstock. I can do very little. But Mr Dombey is so generous in his
estimation of any trivial accomplishment a man like myself may find it
almost necessary to acquire, and to which, in his very different
sphere, he is far superior, that--' Mr Carker shrugged his shoulders,
deprecating further praise, and said no more.

All this time, Edith never raised her eyes, unless to glance towards
her mother when that lady's fervent spirit shone forth in words. But as
Carker ceased, she looked at Mr Dombey for a moment. For a moment only;
but with a transient gleam of scornful wonder on her face, not lost on
one observer, who was smiling round the board.

Mr Dombey caught the dark eyelash in its descent, and took the
opportunity of arresting it.

'You have been to Warwick often, unfortunately?' said Mr Dombey.

'Several times.'

'The visit will be tedious to you, I am afraid.'

'Oh no; not at all.'

'Ah! You are like your cousin Feenix, my dearest Edith,' said Mrs
Skewton. 'He has been to Warwick Castle fifty times, if he has been
there once; yet if he came to Leamington to-morrow--I wish he would,
dear angel!--he would make his fifty-second visit next day.'

'We are all enthusiastic, are we not, Mama?' said Edith, with a cold
smile.

'Too much so, for our peace, perhaps, my dear,' returned her mother;
'but we won't complain. Our own emotions are our recompense. If, as your
cousin Feenix says, the sword wears out the what's-its-name--'

'The scabbard, perhaps,' said Edith.

'Exactly--a little too fast, it is because it is bright and glowing, you
know, my dearest love.'

Mrs Skewton heaved a gentle sigh, supposed to cast a shadow on the
surface of that dagger of lath, whereof her susceptible bosom was the
sheath: and leaning her head on one side, in the Cleopatra manner,
looked with pensive affection on her darling child.

Edith had turned her face towards Mr Dombey when he first addressed her,
and had remained in that attitude, while speaking to her mother, and
while her mother spoke to her, as though offering him her attention, if
he had anything more to say. There was something in the manner of this
simple courtesy: