“I begged them to take you out for airings, constantly,” said Mr Dombey. “Very well! You shall go out oftener. You’re quite right to mention it.”
“I beg your pardon, Sir,” faltered Polly, “but we go out quite plenty Sir, thank you.”
“What would you have then?” asked Mr Dombey.
“Indeed Sir, I don’t exactly know,” said Polly, “unless—”
“Yes?”
“I believe nothing is so good for making children lively and cheerful, Sir, as seeing other children playing about ’em,” observed Polly, taking courage.
“I think I mentioned to you, Richards, when you came here,” said Mr Dombey, with a frown, “that I wished you to see as little of your family as possible.”
“Oh dear yes, Sir, I wasn’t so much as thinking of that.”
“I am glad of it,” said Mr Dombey hastily. “You can continue your walk if you please.”
With that, he disappeared into his inner room; and Polly had the satisfaction of feeling that he had thoroughly misunderstood her object, and that she had fallen into disgrace without the least advancement of her purpose.