 sure,« said Susan Nipper, »to live friendly, Mrs.
Richards, while Master Paul continues a permanency, if the means can be planned
out without going openly against orders, but goodness gracious ME, Miss Floy,
you haven't got your things off yet, you naughty child, you haven't, come
along!«
    With these words, Susan Nipper, in a transport of coercion, made a charge at
her young ward, and swept her out of the room.
    The child, in her grief and neglect, was so gentle, so quiet, and
uncomplaining; was possessed of so much affection that no one seemed to care to
have, and so much sorrowful intelligence that no one seemed to mind or think
about the wounding of; that Polly's heart was sore when she was left alone
again. In the simple passage that had taken place between herself and the
motherless little girl, her own motherly heart had been touched no less than the
child's; and she felt, as the child did, that there was something of confidence
and interest between them from that moment.
    Notwithstanding Mr. Toodle's great reliance on Polly, she was perhaps in
point of artificial accomplishments very little his superior. But she was a good
plain sample of a nature that is ever, in the mass, better, truer, higher,
nobler, quicker to feel, and much more constant to retain, all tenderness and
pity, self-denial and devotion, than the nature of men. And, perhaps, unlearned
as she was, she could have brought a dawning knowledge home to Mr. Dombey at
that early day, which would not then have struck him in the end like lightning.
    But this is from the purpose. Polly only thought, at that time, of improving
on her successful propitiation of Miss Nipper, and devising some means of having
little Florence beside her, lawfully, and without rebellion. An opening happened
to present itself that very night.
    She had been rung down into the glass room as usual, and had walked about
and about it a long time, with the baby in her arms, when, to her great surprise
and dismay, Mr. Dombey came out, suddenly, and stopped before her.
    »Good evening, Richards.«
    Just the same austere, stiff gentleman, as he had appeared to her on that
first day. Such a hard-looking gentleman, that she involuntarily dropped her
eyes and her curtsey at the same time.
    »How is Master Paul, Richards?
    Quite thriving, Sir, and well.
