Though timid Little Dorrit kept as much in the dark corners as possible, Arthur soon noticed her, and asked one of the old servants who she was. He could learn nothing except that she was a seamstress who came by the day to sew, and who went away every night, no one knew where. The child interested him, and he resolved to follow her one evening and learn where she lived. He did so, and was amazed to see her enter the gate of a large forbidding building,—he did not know what building, as he had been long abroad.
Just then he saw an old man, in a threadbare coat, once blue, come tottering along, carrying a clarinet in a limp, worn-out case. As this old man was about to enter the same gate, Arthur stopped him with a question.
"Pray, sir," said he, "what is this place?"
"Ay! This place?" returned the old man, staying a pinch of snuff on its road, and pointing at the place without looking at it. "This is the Marshalsea, sir."
"The debtors' prison?"
"Sir," said the old man, with the air of deeming it not quite necessary to insist upon that name, "the debtors' prison."
He turned himself about, and went on.
"I beg your pardon," said Arthur, stopping him once more, "but will you allow me to ask you another question? Can any one go in here?"
"Any one can go in," replied the old man; "but it is not every one who can go out."
"Pardon me once more. Are you familiar with the place?"