Trot, my dear, another cup.’
I handed it dutifully to my aunt, who was in her usual inflexible state of figure; and ventured a remonstrance with her on the subject of her sitting on a box.
‘Let me draw the sofa here, or the easy-chair, aunt,’ said I.
‘Why should you be so uncomfortable?’
‘Thank you, Trot,’ replied my aunt, ‘I prefer to sit upon my property.’
Here my aunt looked hard at Mrs. Crupp, and observed,
‘We needn’t trouble you to wait, ma’am.’
‘Shall I put a little more tea in the pot afore I go, ma’am?’ said Mrs. Crupp.
‘No, I thank you, ma’am,’ replied my aunt.
‘Would you let me fetch another pat of butter, ma’am?’ said Mrs. Crupp.
‘Or would you be persuaded to try a new-laid hegg? or should I brile a rasher?
Ain’t there nothing I could do for your dear aunt, Mr. Copperfull?’
‘Nothing, ma’am,’ returned my aunt. ‘I shall do very well, I thank you.’
Mrs. Crupp, who had been incessantly smiling to express sweet temper, and incessantly holding her head on one side, to express a general feebleness of constitution, and incessantly rubbing her hands, to express a desire to be of service to all deserving objects, gradually smiled herself, one-sided herself, and rubbed herself, out of the room.
‘Dick!’ said my aunt. ‘You know what I told you about time-servers and wealth-worshippers?’
Mr. Dick—with rather a scared look, as if he had forgotten it—returned a hasty answer in the affirmative.
‘Mrs. Crupp is one of them,’ said my aunt.
‘Barkis, I’ll trouble you to look after the tea, and let me have another cup, for I don’t fancy that woman’s pouring-out!’
I knew my aunt sufficiently well to know that she had something of importance on her mind, and that there was far more matter in this arrival than a stranger might have supposed.
I noticed how her eye lighted on me, when she thought my attention otherwise occupied; and what a curious process of hesitation appeared to be going on within her, while she preserved her outward stiffness and composure.
I began to reflect whether I had done anything to offend her; and my conscience whispered me that I had not yet told her about Dora.
Could it by any means be that, I wondered!
As I knew she would only speak in her own good time, I sat down near her, and spoke to the birds, and played with the cat, and was as easy as I could be.
But I was very far from being really easy; and I should still have been so, even if Mr. Dick, leaning over the great kite behind my aunt, had not taken every secret opportunity of shaking his head darkly at me, and pointing at her.
‘Trot,’ said my aunt at last, when she had finished her tea, and carefully smoothed down her dress, and wiped her lips—‘you needn’t go, Barkis!—Trot, have you got to be firm and self-reliant?’
‘I hope so, aunt.’
‘What do you think?’ inquired Miss Betsey.
‘I think so, aunt.’
‘Then why, my love,’ said my aunt, looking earnestly at me, ‘why do you think I prefer to sit upon this property of mine tonight?’
I shook my head, unable to guess.
‘Because,’ said my aunt, ‘it’s all I have. Because I’m ruined, my dear!’
If the house, and every one of us, had tumbled out into the river together, I could hardly have received a greater shock.
‘Dick knows it,’ said my aunt, laying her hand calmly on my shoulder.
‘I am ruined, my dear Trot!
All I have in the world is in this room, except the cottage; and that I have left Janet to let. Barkis, I want to get a bed for this gentleman tonight. To save expense, perhaps you can make up something here for myself. Anything will do. It’s only for tonight.
We’ll talk about this, more, tomorrow.’
I was roused from my amazement, and concern for her—I am sure, for her—by her falling on my neck, for a moment, and crying that she only grieved for me.
In another moment she suppressed this emotion; and said with an aspect more triumphant than dejected:
‘We must meet reverses boldly, and not suffer them to frighten us, my dear.
We must learn to act the play out.
We must live misfortune down, Trot!’
CHAPTER 35. DEPRESSION
As soon as I could recover my presence of mind, which quite deserted me in the first overpowering shock of my aunt’s intelligence, I proposed to Mr. Dick to come round to the chandler’s shop, and take possession of the bed which Mr. Peggotty had lately vacated.
The chandler’s shop being in Hungerford Market, and Hungerford Market being a very different place in those days, there was a low wooden colonnade before the door (not very unlike that before the house where the little man and woman used to live, in the old weather-glass), which pleased Mr. Dick mightily.
The glory of lodging over this structure would have compensated him, I dare say, for many inconveniences; but, as there were really few to bear, beyond the compound of flavours I have already mentioned, and perhaps the want of a little more elbow-room, he was perfectly charmed with his accommodation.
Mrs. Crupp had indignantly assured him that there wasn’t room to swing a cat there; but, as Mr. Dick justly observed to me, sitting down on the foot of the bed, nursing his leg,
‘You know, Trotwood, I don’t want to swing a cat.
I never do swing a cat.
Therefore, what does that signify to ME!’
I tried to ascertain whether Mr. Dick had any understanding of the causes of this sudden and great change in my aunt’s affairs. As I might have expected, he had none at all.