the road to Bleak House would have been very long, dark, and tedious, on such an evening, and as we had been travelling already, Mr. Jarndyce had himself proposed this arrangement. A carriage would be at Mrs. Jellyby's to convey us out of town, early in the forenoon of to-morrow.
He then rang a little bell, and the young gentleman came in. Addressing him by the name of Guppy, Mr. Kenge inquired whether Miss Summerson's boxes and the rest of the baggage had been “sent round.” Mr. Guppy said yes, they had been sent round, and a coach was waiting to take us round too, as soon as we pleased.
“Then it only remains,” said Mr. Kenge, shaking hands with us, “for me to express my lively satisfaction in (good day, Miss Clare !) the arrangement this day concluded, and my (good bye to you, Miss Summerson !) lively hope that it will conduce to the happiness, the (glad to have had the honor of making your acquaintance, Mr. Carstone !) welfare, the advantage in all points of view, of all concerned ! Guppy, see the party safely there.”
“Where is ‘there,’ Mr. Guppy ?” said Richard, as we went down stairs.
“No distance,” said Mr. Guppy; “round in Thavies' Inn, you know.”
“I can't say I know where it is, for I come from Winchester, and am strange in London.”
“Only round the corner,” said Mr. Guppy. “We just twist up Chancery-lane, and cut along Holborn, and there we are in four minutes time, as near as a toucher. This is about a London particular now, ain't it, miss ?” He seemed quite delighted with it on my account.
“The fog is very dense indeed !” said I.
“Not that it affects you, though, I am sure,” said Mr. Guppy, putting up the steps. “On the contrary, it seems to do you good, miss, judging from your appearance.”
I knew he meant well in paying me this compliment, so I laughed at myself for blushing at it, when he had shut the door and got upon the box ; and we all three laughed, and chatted about our inexperience, and the strangeness of London, until we turned up under an archway, to our destination : a narrow street of high houses, like an oblong cistern to hold the fog. There was a confused little crowd of people, principally children, gathered about the house at which we stopped, which had a tarnished brass plate on the door, with the inscription, Jellyby.
“Don't be frightened !” said Mr. Guppy, looking in at the coach-window. “One of the young Jellybys been and got his head through the area railings !”
“O poor child,” said I, “let me out, if you please !”
“Pray be careful of yourself, miss. The young Jellybys are always up to something,” said Mr. Guppy.
I made my way to the poor child, who was one of the dirtiest little unfortunates I ever saw, and found him veiy hot and frightened, and crying loudly, fixed by the neck between two iron railings, while a milk-man and a beadle, with the kindest intentions possible, were endeavouring to drag him back by the legs, under a general impression that his skull was compressible by those means. As I found (after pacifying him), that he was a little boy, with a naturally large head, I thought that, perhaps, where his head could go, his body could follow, and mentioned that the
