Chapter 14 - Page 2

from which he had risen nearer to the grate, he
made her sit down in it; and hurriedly bringing wood and coal,
heaped them together and got a blaze.

'Your foot is like marble, my child;' he had happened to touch it,
while stooping on one knee at his work of kindling the fire; 'put
it nearer the warmth.' Little Dorrit thanked him hastily. It was
quite warm, it was very warm! It smote upon his heart to feel that
she hid her thin, worn shoe.

Little Dorrit was not ashamed of her poor shoes. He knew her
story, and it was not that. Little Dorrit had a misgiving that he
might blame her father, if he saw them; that he might think, 'why
did he dine to-day, and leave this little creature to the mercy of
the cold stones!' She had no belief that it would have been a just
reflection; she simply knew, by experience, that such delusions did
sometimes present themselves to people. It was a part of her
father's misfortunes that they did.

'Before I say anything else,' Little Dorrit began, sitting before
the pale fire, and raising her eyes again to the face which in its
harmonious look of interest, and pity, and protection, she felt to
be a mystery far above her in degree, and almost removed beyond her
guessing at; 'may I tell you something, sir?'

'Yes, my child.'
A slight shade of distress fell upon her, at his so often calling
her a child. She was surprised that he should see it, or think of
such a slight thing; but he said directly:
'I wanted a tender word, and could think of no other. As you just
now gave yourself the name they give you at my mother's, and as
that is the name by which I always think of you, let me call you
Little Dorrit.'

'Thank you, sir, I should like it better than any name.'

'Little Dorrit.'

'Little mother,' Maggy (who had been falling asleep) put in, as a
correction.

'It's all the same, MaggY,' returned Little Dorrit, 'all the same.'

'Is it all the same, mother?'

'Just the same.'

Maggy laughed, and immediately snored. In Little Dorrit's eyes and
ears, the uncouth figure and the uncouth sound were as pleasant as
could be. There was a glow of pride in her big child,
overspreading her face, when it again met the eyes of the grave
brown gentleman. She wondered what he was thinking of, as he
looked at Maggy and her. She thought what a good father he would
be. How, with some such look, he would counsel and cherish his
daughter.

'What I was going to tell you, sir,' said Little Dorrit, 'is, that
MY brother is at large.'

Arthur was rejoiced to hear it, and hoped he would do well.

'And what I was going to tell you, sir,' said Little Dorrit,
trembling in all her little figure and in her voice, 'is,