“Oh, dear me!” said my guardian. “Due east!”
Ada and I gave her a cordial welcome and presented her to Mr. Jarndyce, to whom she said as she sat down, “Ma’s compliments, and she hopes you’ll excuse her, because she’s correcting proofs of the plan. She’s going to put out five thousand new circulars, and she knows you’ll be interested to hear that. I have brought one of them with me. Ma’s compliments.” With which she presented it sulkily enough.
“Thank you,” said my guardian. “I am much obliged to Mrs. Jellyby. Oh, dear me! This is a very trying wind!”
We were busy with Peepy, taking off his clerical hat, asking him if he remembered us, and so on. Peepy retired behind his elbow at first, but relented at the sight of sponge-cake and allowed me to take him on my lap, where he sat munching quietly. Mr. Jarndyce then withdrawing into the temporary growlery, Miss Jellyby opened a conversation with her usual abruptness.
“We are going on just as bad as ever in Thavies Inn,” said she. “I have no peace of my life. Talk of Africa! I couldn’t be worse off if I was a what’s-his-name—man and a brother!”
I tried to say something soothing.
“Oh, it’s of no use, Miss Summerson,” exclaimed Miss Jellyby, “though I thank you for the kind intention all the same. I know how I am used, and I am not to be talked over. YOU wouldn’t be talked over if you were used so. Peepy, go and play at Wild Beasts under the piano!”
“I shan’t!” said Peepy.
“Very well, you ungrateful, naughty, hard-hearted boy!” returned Miss Jellyby with tears in her eyes. “I’ll never take pains to dress you any more.”
“Yes, I will go, Caddy!” cried Peepy, who was really a good child and who was so moved by his sister’s vexation that he went at once.