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    Chapter 7 - Page 2

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    having been surface and
    varnish and show without substance--Little Dorrit looked as if she
    had hoped that Mrs General was safely tucked up in bed for some
    hours.

    'Now, can you guess, Amy?' said Fanny.

    'No, dear. Unless I have done anything,' said Little Dorrit,
    rather alarmed, and meaning anything calculated to crack varnish
    and ruffle surface.

    Fanny was so very much amused by the misgiving, that she took up
    her favourite fan (being then seated at her dressing-table with her
    armoury of cruel instruments about her, most of them reeking from
    the heart of Sparkler), and tapped her sister frequently on the
    nose with it, laughing all the time.

    'Oh, our Amy, our Amy!' said Fanny. 'What a timid little goose our
    Amy is! But this is nothing to laugh at. On the contrary, I am
    very cross, my dear.'

    'As it is not with me, Fanny, I don't mind,' returned her sister,
    smiling.

    'Ah! But I do mind,' said Fanny, 'and so will you, Pet, when I
    enlighten you. Amy, has it never struck you that somebody is
    monstrously polite to Mrs General?'

    'Everybody is polite to Mrs General,' said Little Dorrit.
    'Because--'

    'Because she freezes them into it?' interrupted Fanny. 'I don't
    mean that; quite different from that. Come! Has it never struck
    you, Amy, that Pa is monstrously polite to Mrs General.'

    Amy, murmuring 'No,' looked quite confounded.
    'No; I dare say not. But he is,' said Fanny. 'He is, Amy. And
    remember my words. Mrs General has designs on Pa!'

    'Dear Fanny, do you think it possible that Mrs General has designs
    on any one?'

    'Do I think it possible?' retorted Fanny. 'My love, I know it. I
    tell you she has designs on Pa. And more than that, I tell you Pa
    considers her such a wonder, such a paragon of accomplishment, and
    such an acquisition to our family, that he is ready to get himself
    into a state of perfect infatuation with her at any moment. And
    that opens a pretty picture of things, I hope? Think of me with
    Mrs General for a Mama!'

    Little Dorrit did not reply, 'Think of me with Mrs General for a
    Mama;' but she looked anxious, and seriously inquired what had led
    Fanny to these conclusions.

    'Lord, my darling,' said Fanny, tartly. 'You might as well ask me
    how I know when a man is struck with myself! But, of course I do
    know. It happens pretty often: but I always know it. I know this
    in much the same way, I suppose. At all events, I know it.'

    'You never heard Papa say anything?'

    'Say anything?' repeated Fanny. 'My dearest, darling child, what
    necessity has he had, yet awhile, to say anything?'

    'And you have never heard Mrs General say anything?'
    'My goodness me, Amy,' returned Fanny, 'is she the sort of
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