"As compensation what for?" Joe demanded.
"For the loss of his services."
Joe laid his hand upon my shoulder with the touch of a woman. I have often thought of him since, like the steam-hammer, that can crush a man or pat an egg-shell, in his combination of strength with gentleness. "Pip is that hearty welcome," said Joe, "to go free with his services, to honor and fortun', as no words can tell him. But if you think as Money can make compensation to me for the loss of the little child—what come to the forge—and ever the best of friends—"
Oh, dear, good Joe, whom I was so ready to leave and so unthankful to, I see you again, with your muscular blacksmith's arm before your eyes, and your broad chest heaving, and your voice dying away. Oh, dear, good, faithful, tender Joe, I feel the loving tremble of your hand upon my arm, as solemnly this day as if it had been the rustle of an angel's wing!
But at the time I was lost in the mazes of my future fortunes, and could not retrace the by-paths we had trodden together. I begged Joe to be comforted. Joe scooped his eyes with his disengaged wrist, as if he were bent on gouging himself, but said not another word.
After the lawyer had taken his leave, Joe and I went into the kitchen, where we found Biddy and my sister, and told them of my good fortune.
They dropped their sewing and looked at me. Joe held his knees and looked at me. I looked at them, in turn. After a pause they heartily congratulated me; but there was a certain touch of sadness in their congratulations that I rather resented.
Now that I was actually going away I became quite gloomy. I did not know why, but I sat in the chimney corner looking at the fire, my elbow on my knee; and while the others tried to make the conversation cheerful, I grew gloomier than ever.
But the bright sunlight of the next morning dispelled my doubts and fears, and I began to count the days eagerly. I went down to Trabb's, the tailor's, and got measured for a wonderful suit of clothes, much to the consternation of Trabb's boy, who thought himself equal to any blacksmith that ever lived. Then I went to the hatter's and the bootmaker's and the hosier's, and felt rather like Mother Hubbard's dog, whose outfit required the services of so many trades. I also went to the coach-office and took my place for seven o'clock Saturday morning. And everywhere about the village the news of my great expectations preceded me and I was heartily stared at.
Uncle Pumblechook was especially officious at this time. He acted as though he were the sole cause of all this.