This page needs to be proofread.
DOMBEY AND SON.
439

the door. "Go along with you this minute. Pack up your things directly! How dare you talk in this way to a gentlewoman who has seen better days?"

To which Miss Nipper rejoined from her castle, that she pitied the better days that had seen Mrs. Pipchin; and that for her part she considered the worst days in the year to be about that lady’s mark, except that they were much too good for her.

"But you needn’t trouble yourself to make a noise at my door," said Susan Nipper, "nor to contaminate the key-hole with your eye, I’m packing up and going you may take your affidavit."

The Dowager expressed her lively satisfaction at this intelligence, and with some general opinions upon young hussies as a race, and especially upon their demerits after being spoiled by Miss Dombey, withdrew to prepare the Nipper’s wages. Susan then bestirred herself to get her trunks in order, that she might take an immediate and dignified departure; sobbing heartily all the time, as she thought of Florence.

The object of her regret was not long in coming to her, for the news soon spread over the house that Susan Nipper had had a disturbance with Mrs. Pipchin, and that they had both appealed to Mr. Dombey, and that there had been an unprecedented piece of work in Mr. Dombey’s room, and that Susan was going. The latter part of this confused rumour, Florence found to be so correct, that Susan had locked the last trunk and was sitting upon it with her bonnet on, when she came into her room.

"Susan!" cried Florence. "Going to leave me! You!"

"Oh for goodness gracious sake, Miss Floy," said Susan, sobbing, "don’t speak a word to me or I shall demean myself before them Pi-i-pchinses, and I wouldn’t have 'em see me cry Miss Floy for worlds!"

"Susan!" said Florence. "My dear girl, my old friend! What shall I do without you! Can you bear to go away so?"

"No-n-o-o, my darling dear Miss Floy, I can’t indeed," sobbed Susan. "But it can’t be helped, I ’ve done my duty, Miss, I have indeed. It’s no fault of mine. I am quite resi-igned. I couldn’t stay my month or I could never leave you then my darling and I must at last as well as at first, don’t speak to me Miss Floy, for though I’m pretty firm I’m not a marble doorpost, my own dear."

"What is it? Why is it?" said Florence, "Won’t you tell me?" For Susan was shaking her head.

"No-n-no, my darling," returned Susan. "Don’t ask me, for I mustn’t, and whatever you do don’t put in a word for me to stop, for it couldn’t be and you’d only wrong yourself, and so God bless you my own precious and forgive me any harm I have done, or any temper I have showed in all these many years!"

With which entreaty, very heartily delivered, Susan hugged her mistress in her arms.

"My darling there’s a many that may come to serve you and be glad to serve you and who ’ll serve you well and true," said Susan, "but there can’t be one who ’ll serve you so affectionate as me or love you half as dearly, that’s my comfort. Go-ood-bye, sweet Miss Floy!"

"Where will you go, Susan?" asked her weeping mistress.

"I ’ve got a brother down in the country Miss—a farmer in Essex,"