When Doctor Blimber in his cold, formal manner asked Paul “why he preferred to be a child,” the little fellow was unable to answer, and as they stared at him, he at length put his hand on the neck of Florence and burst into tears.
“Mrs. Pipchin,” said his father in a querulous manner, “I am really very sorry to see this.”
“Never mind,” said the doctor blandly, nodding his head to keep Mrs. Pipchin back. “Nev-er mind; we shall substitute new cares and new impressions, Mr. Dombey, very shortly. You would still wish my little friend to acquire——”
“Everything, if you please, doctor,” returned Mr. Dombey firmly.
“Yes,” said the doctor, who, with his half-shut eyes and his usual smile, seemed to survey Paul with the sort of interest that might attach to some choice little animal he was going to stuff. “Yes, exactly. Ha! We shall impart a great variety of information to our little friend, and bring him quickly forward, I dare say. I dare say. Quite a virgin soil, I believe you said, Mr. Dombey?”
On leaving, Mr. Dombey said to Paul:
“You’ll try and learn a great deal here, and be a clever man, won’t you?”
“I’ll try,” returned the child wearily.
“And you’ll soon be grown up now?” said Mr. Dombey.
“Oh! very soon!” replied the child. Once more the old, old look passed rapidly across his features like a strange light.