Chapter 25 - Page 2

on that occasion you went so far as to say you were actually apprehensive of Miss Gradgrind.’

‘Your memory does me more honour than my insignificance deserves. I availed myself of your obliging hints to correct my timidity, and it is unnecessary to add that they were perfectly accurate. Mrs Sparsit’s talent for — in fact for anything requiring accuracy — with a combination of strength of mind — and Family — is too habitually developed to admit of any question.’ He was almost falling asleep over this compliment; it took him so long to get through, and his mind wandered so much in the course of its execution.

‘You found Miss Gradgrind — I really cannot call her Mrs Bounderby; it’s very absurd of me — as youthful as I described her?’ asked Mrs Sparsit, sweetly.

‘You drew her portrait perfectly,’ said Mr Harthouse. ‘Presented her dead image.’

‘Very engaging, sir,’ said Mrs Sparsit, causing her mittens slowly to revolve over one another.

‘Highly so.’

‘It used to be considered,’ said Mrs Sparsit, ‘that Miss Gradgrind was wanting in animation, but I confess she appears to me considerably and strikingly improved in that respect. Ay, and indeed here is Mr Bounderby!’ cried Mrs Sparsit, nodding her head a great many times, as if she had been talking and thinking of no one else. ‘How do you find yourself this morning, sir? Pray let us see you cheerful, sir.’

Now, these persistent assuagements of his misery, and lightenings of his load, had by this time begun to have the effect of making Mr Bounderby softer than usual towards Mrs Sparsit, and harder than usual to most other people from his wife downward. So, when Mrs Sparsit said with forced lightness of heart, ‘You want your breakfast, sir, but I dare say Miss Gradgrind will soon be here to preside at the table,’ Mr Bounderby replied, ‘If I waited to be taken care of by my wife, ma’am, I believe you know pretty well I should wait till Doomsday, so I’ll trouble you to take charge of the teapot.’ Mrs Sparsit complied, and assumed her old position at table.

This again made the excellent woman vastly sentimental. She was so humble withal, that when Louisa appeared, she rose, protesting she never could think of sitting in that place under existing circumstances, often as she had had the honour of making Mr Bounderby’s breakfast, before Mrs Gradgrind — she begged pardon, she meant to say Miss Bounderby — she hoped to be excused, but she really could not get it right yet, though she trusted to become familiar with it by-and-bye — had assumed her present position. It was only (she observed) because Miss Gradgrind happened to be a little late, and Mr Bounderby’s time