“So I’m agoing to, sir. One of my little boys is agoing to learn me, when he’s old enough, and been to school himself.”
What a beautiful picture of the true relationship that should exist between a mother and her children is given in the reception to Mrs. Toodle when she went home to visit her family!
“Why, Polly!” cried her sister. “You! what a turn you have given me! who’d have thought it! come along in, Polly! How well you do look, to be sure! The children will go half wild to see you, Polly, that they will.”
That they did, if one might judge from the noise they made, and the way in which they dashed at Polly and dragged her to a low chair in the chimney corner, where her own honest apple face became immediately the centre of a bunch of smaller pippins, all laying their rosy cheeks close to it, and all evidently the growth of the same tree. As to Polly, she was full as noisy and vehement as the children; and it was not until she was quite out of breath, and her hair was hanging all about her flushed face, and her new christening attire was very much dishevelled, that any pause took place in the confusion. Even then, the smallest Toodle but one remained in her lap, holding on tight with both arms round her neck; while the smallest Toodle but two mounted on the back of the chair, and made desperate efforts, with one leg in the air, to kiss her round the corner.
Unfortunately the eldest Toodle, nicknamed Biler, was sent to the grinders’ school by Mr. Dombey, and he was so badly treated that he played truant and got into bad company; but his mother clung to him and treated him kindly, and hoped for him still. Mr. Carker went home with Biler to satisfy himself in regard to his family.
“This fellow,” said Mr. Carker to Polly, giving him a gentle shake, “is your son, eh, ma’am?”
“Yes, sir,” sobbed Polly, with a courtesy; “yes, sir.”
“A bad son, I am afraid?” said Mr. Carker.
“Never a bad son to me, sir,” returned Polly.
“To whom, then?” demanded Mr. Carker.