We were to pass the night, Mr. Kenge told us when we arrived in hisroom, at Mrs. Jellyby's; and then he turned to me and said he tookit for granted I knew who Mrs. Jellyby was.

　　"I really don't, sir," I returned. "Perhaps Mr. Carstone--or MissClare--"But no, they knew nothing whatever about Mrs. Jellyby. "In-deed!

　　Mrs. Jellyby," said Mr. Kenge, standing with his back to the fireand casting his eyes over the dusty hearth-rug as if it were Mrs.

　　Jellyby's biography, "is a lady of very remarkable strength ofcharacter who devotes herself entirely to the public. She hasdevoted herself to an extensive variety of public subjects atvarious times and is at present (until something else attracts her)devoted to the subject of Africa, with a view to the generalcultivation of the coffee berry--AND the natives--and the happysettlement, on the banks of the African rivers, of oursuperabundant home population. Mr. Jarndyce, who is desirous toaid any work that is considered likely to be a good work and who ismuch sought after by philanthropists, has, I believe, a very highopinion of Mrs. Jellyby."Mr. Kenge, adjusting his cravat, then looked at us.

　　"And Mr. Jellyby, sir?" suggested Richard.

　　"Ah! Mr. Jellyby," said Mr. Kenge, "is--a--I don't know that I candescribe him to you better than by saying that he is the husband ofMrs. Jellyby.""A nonentity, sir?" said Richard with a droll look.

　　"I don't say that," returned Mr. Kenge gravely. "I can't say that,indeed, for I know nothing whatever OF Mr. Jellyby. I never, to myknowledge, had the pleasure of seeing Mr. Jellyby. He may be avery superior man, but he is, so to speak, merged--merged--in themore shining qualities of his wife." Mr. Kenge proceeded to tellus that as the road to Bleak House would have been very long, dark,and tedious on such an evening, and as we had been travellingalready, Mr. Jarndyce had himself proposed this arrangement. Acarriage would be at Mrs. Jellyby's to convey us out of town earlyin 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 whetherMiss Summerson's boxes and the rest of the baggage had been "sentround." Mr. Guppy said yes, they had been sent round, and a coachwas waiting to take us round too as soon as we pleased.

　　"Then it only remains," said Mr. Kenge, shaking hands with us, "forme to express my lively satisfaction in (good day, Miss Clare!) thearrangement this day concluded and my (GOOD-bye to you, MissSummerson!) lively hope that it will conduce to the happiness, the(glad to have had the honour of making your acquaintance, Mr.

　　Carstone!) welfare, the advantage in all points of view, of allconcerned! Guppy, see the party safely there.""Where IS 'there,' Mr. Guppy?" said Richard as we went downstairs.

　　"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 amstrange in London.""Only round the corner," said Mr. Guppy. "We just twist upChancery Lane, and cut along Holborn, and there we are in fourminutes' time, as near as a toucher. This is about a Londonparticular NOW, ain't it, miss?" He seemed quite delighted with iton my account.

　　"The fog is very dense indeed!" said I.

　　"Not that it affects you, though, I'm 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 atmyself for blushing at it when he had shut the door and got uponthe box; and we all three laughed and chatted about ourinexperience and the strangeness of London until we turned up underan archway to our destination--a narrow street of high houses likean oblong cistern to hold the fog. There was a confused littlecrowd of people, principally children, gathered about the house atwhich we stopped, which had a tarnished brass plate on the doorwith 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 throughthe area railings!""Oh, poor child," said I; "let me out, if you please!""Pray be careful of yourself, miss. The young Jellybys are alwaysup to something," said Mr. Guppy.

　　I made my way to the poor child, who was one of the dirtiest littleunfortunates I ever saw, and found him very hot and frightened andcrying loudly, fixed by the neck between two iron railings, while amilkman and a beadle, with the kindest intentions possible, wereendeavouring to drag him back by the legs, under a generalimpression that his skull was compressible by those means. As Ifound (after pacifying him) that he was a little boy with anaturally large head, I thought that perhaps where his head couldgo, his body could follow, and mentioned that the best mode ofextrication might be to push him forward. This was so favourablyreceived by the milkman and beadle that he would immediately havebeen pushed into the area if I had not held his pinafore whileRichard and Mr. Guppy ran down through the kitchen to catch himwhen he should be released. At last he was happily got downwithout any accident, and then he began to beat Mr. Guppy with ahoop-stick in quite a frantic manner.

　　Nobody had appeared belonging to the house except a person inpattens, who had been poking at the child from below with a broom;I don't know with what object, and I don't think she did. Itherefore supposed that Mrs. Jellyby was not at home, and was quitesurprised when the person appeared in the passage without thepattens, and going up to the back room on the first floor beforeAda and me, announced us as, "Them two young ladies, MissisJellyby!" We passed several more children on the way up, whom itwas difficult to avoid treading on in the dark; and as we came intoMrs. Jellyby's presence, one of the poor little things felldownstairs--down a whole flight (as it sounded to me), with a greatnoise.

　　Mrs. Jellyby, whose face reflected none of the uneasiness which wecould not help showing in our own faces as the dear child's headrecorded its passage with a bump on every stair--Richard afterwardssaid he counted seven, besides one for the landing--received uswith perfect equanimity. She was a pretty, very diminutive, plumpwoman of from forty to fifty, with handsome eyes, though they had acurious habit of seeming to look a long way off. As if--I amquoting Richard again--they could see nothing nearer than Africa!

　　"I am very glad indeed," said Mrs. Jellyby in an agreeable voice,"to have the pleasure of receiving you. I have a great respect forMr. Jarndyce, and no one in whom he is interested can be an objectof indifference to me."We expressed our acknowledgments and sat down behind the door,where there was a lame invalid of a sofa. Mrs. Jellyby had verygood hair but was too much occupied with her African duties tobrush it. The shawl in which she had been loosely muffled droppedonto her chair when she advanced to us; and as she turned to resumeher seat, we could not help noticing that her dress didn't nearlymeet up the back and that the open space was railed across with alattice-work of stay-lace--like a summer-house.

　　The room, which was strewn with papers and nearly filled by a greatwriting-table covered with similar litter, was, I must say, notonly very untidy but very dirty. We were obliged to take notice ofthat with our sense of sight, even while, with our sense ofhearing, we followed the poor child who had tumbled downstairs: Ithink into the back kitchen, where somebody seemed to stifle him.

　　But what principally struck us was a jaded and unhealthy-lookingthough by no means plain girl at the writing-table, who sat bitingthe feather of her pen and staring at us. I suppose nobody everwas in such a state of ink. And from her tumbled hair to herpretty feet, which were disfigured with frayed and broken satinslippers trodden down at heel, she really seemed to have no articleof dress upon her, from a pin upwards, that was in its propercondition or its right place.

　　"You find me, my dears," said Mrs. Jellyby, snuffing the two greatoffice candles in tin candlesticks, which made the room tastestrongly of hot tallow (the fire had gone out, and there wasnothing in the grate but ashes, a bundle of wood, and a poker),"you find me, my dears, as usual, very busy; but that you willexcuse. The African project at present employs my whole time. Itinvolves me in correspondence with public bodies and with privateindividuals anxious for the welfare of their species all over thecountry. I am happy to say it is advancing. We hope by this timenext year to have from a hundred and fifty to two hundred healthyfamilies cultivating coffee and educating the natives ofBorrioboola-Gha, on the left bank of the Niger."As Ada said nothing, but looked at me, I said it must be verygratifying.

　　"It IS gratifying," said Mrs. Jellyby. "It involves the devotionof all my energies, such as they are; but that is nothing, so thatit succeeds; and I am more confident of success every day. Do youknow, Miss Summerson, I almost wonder that YOU never turned yourthoughts to Africa."This application of the subject was really so unexpected to me thatI was quite at a loss how to receive it. I hinted that theclimate--"The finest climate in the world!" said Mrs. Jellyby.

　　"Indeed, ma'am?""Certainly. With precaution," said Mrs. Jellyby. "You may go intoHolborn, without precaution, and be run over. You may go intoHolborn, with precaution, and never be run over. Just so withAfrica."I said, "No doubt." I meant as to Holborn.

　　"If you would like," said Mrs. Jellyby, putting a number of paperstowards us, "to look over some remarks on that head, and on thegeneral subject, which have been extensively circulated, while Ifinish a letter I am now dictating to my eldest daughter, who is myamanuensis--"The girl at the table left off biting her pen and made a return toour recognition, which was half bashful and half sulky.

　　"--I shall then have finished for the present," proceeded Mrs.

　　Jellyby with a sweet smile, "though my work is never done. Whereare you, Caddy?""'Presents her compliments to Mr. Swallow, and begs--'" said Caddy.

　　"'And begs,'" said Mrs. Jellyby, dictating, "'to inform him, inreference to his letter of inquiry on the African project--' No,Peepy! Not on my account!"Peepy (so self-named) was the unfortunate child who had fallendownstairs, who now interrupted the correspondence by presentinghimself, with a strip of plaster on his forehead, to exhibit hiswounded knees, in which Ada and I did not know which to pity most--the bruises or the dirt. Mrs. Jellyby merely added, with theserene composure with which she said everything, "Go along, younaughty Peepy!" and fixed her fine eyes on Africa again.

　　However, as she at once proceeded with her dictation, and as Iinterrupted nothing by doing it, I ventured quietly to stop poorPeepy as he was going out and to take him up to nurse. He lookedvery much astonished at it and at Ada's kissing him, but soon fellfast asleep in my arms, sobbing at longer and longer intervals,until he was quiet. I was so occupied with Peepy that I lost theletter in detail, though I derived such a general impression fromit of the momentous importance of Africa, and the utterinsignificance of all other places and things, that I felt quiteashamed to have thought so little about it.

　　"Six o'clock!" said Mrs. Jellyby. "And our dinner hour isnominally (for we dine at all hours) five! Caddy, show Miss Clareand Miss Summerson their rooms. You will like to make some change,perhaps? You will excuse me, I know, being so much occupied. Oh,that very bad child! Pray put him down, Miss Summerson!"I begged permission to retain him, truly saying that he was not atall troublesome, and carried him upstairs and laid him on my bed.

　　Ada and I had two upper rooms with a door of communication between.

　　They were excessively bare and disorderly, and the curtain to mywindow was fastened up with a fork.

　　"You would like some hot water, wouldn't you?" said Miss Jellyby,looking round for a jug with a handle to it, but looking in vain.

　　"If it is not being troublesome," said we.

　　"Oh, it's not the trouble," returned Miss Jellyby; "the questionis, if there IS any."The evening was so very cold and the rooms had such a marshy smellthat I must confess it was a little miserable, and Ada was halfcrying. We soon laughed, however, and were busily unpacking whenMiss Jellyby came back to say that she was sorry there was no hotwater, but they couldn't find the kettle, and the boiler was out oforder.

　　We begged her not to mention it and made all the haste we could toget down to the fire again. But all the little children had comeup to the landing outside to look at the phenomenon of Peepy lyingon my bed, and our attention was distracted by the constantapparition of noses and fingers in situations of danger between thehinges of the doors. It was impossible to shut the door of eitherroom, for my lock, with no knob to it, looked as if it wanted to bewound up; and though the handle of Ada's went round and round withthe greatest smoothness, it was attended with no effect whatever onthe door. Therefore I proposed to the children that they shouldcome in and be very good at my table, and I would tell them thestory of Little Red Riding Hood while I dressed; which they did,and were as quiet as mice, including Peepy, who awoke opportunelybefore the appearance of the wolf.

　　When we went downstairs we found a mug with "A Present fromTunbridge Wells" on it lighted up in the staircase window with afloating wick, and a young woman, with a swelled face bound up in aflannel bandage blowing the fire of the drawing-room (now connectedby an open door with Mrs. Jellyby's room) and choking dreadfully.

　　It smoked to that degree, in short, that we all sat coughing andcrying with the windows open for half an hour, during which Mrs.

　　Jellyby, with the same sweetness of temper, directed letters aboutAfrica. Her being so employed was, I must say, a great relief tome, for Richard told us that he had washed his hands in a pie-dishand that they had found the kettle on his dressing-table, and hemade Ada laugh so that they made me laugh in the most ridiculousmanner.

　　Soon after seven o'clock we went down to dinner, carefully, by Mrs.

　　Jellyby's advice, for the stair-carpets, besides being verydeficient in stair-wires, were so torn as to be absolute traps. Wehad a fine cod-fish, a piece of roast beef, a dish of cutlets, anda pudding; an excellent dinner, if it had had any cooking to speakof, but it was almost raw. The young woman with the flannelbandage waited, and dropped everything on the table wherever ithappened to go, and never moved it again until she put it on thestairs. The person I had seen in pattens, who I suppose to havebeen the cook, frequently came and skirmished with her at the door,and there appeared to be ill will between them.

　　All through dinner--which was long, in consequence of suchaccidents as the dish of potatoes being mislaid in the coal skuttleand the handle of the corkscrew coming off and striking the youngwoman in the chin--Mrs. Jellyby preserved the evenness of herdisposition. She told us a great deal that was interesting aboutBorrioboola-Gha and the natives, and received so many letters thatRichard, who sat by her, saw four envelopes in the gravy at once.

　　Some of the letters were proceedings of ladies' committees orresolutions of ladies' meetings, which she read to us; others wereapplications from people excited in various ways about thecultivation of coffee, and natives; others required answers, andthese she sent her eldest daughter from the table three or fourtimes to write. She was full of business and undoubtedly was, asshe had told us, devoted to the cause.

　　I was a little curious to know who a mild bald gentleman inspectacles was, who dropped into a vacant chair (there was no topor bottom in particular) after the fish was taken away and seemedpassively to submit himself to Borriohoola-Gha but not to beactively interested in that settlement. As he never spoke a word,he might have been a native but for his complexion. It was notuntil we left the table and he remained alone with Richard that thepossibility of his being Mr. Jellyby ever entered my head. But heWAS Mr. Jellyby; and a loquacious young man called Mr. Quale, withlarge shining knobs for temples and his hair all brushed to theback of his head, who came in the evening, and told Ada he was aphilanthropist, also informed her that he called the matrimonialalliance of Mrs. Jellyby with Mr. Jellyby the union of mind andmatter.

　　This young man, besides having a great deal to say for himselfabout Africa and a project of his for teaching the coffee coloniststo teach the natives to turn piano-forte legs and establish anexport trade, delighted in drawing Mrs. Jellyby out by saving, "Ibelieve now, Mrs. Jellyby, you have received as many as from onehundred and fifty to two hundred letters respecting Africa in asingle day, have you not?" or, "If my memory does not deceive me,Mrs. Jellyby, you once mentioned that you had sent off fivethousand circulars from one post-office at one time?"--alwaysrepeating Mrs. Jellyby's answer to us like an interpreter. Duringthe whole evening, Mr. Jellyby sat in a corner with his headagainst the wall as if he were subject to low spirits. It seemedthat he had several times opened his mouth when alone with Richardafter dinner, as if he had something on his mind, but had alwaysshut it again, to Richard's extreme confusion, without sayinganything.

　　Mrs. Jellyby, sitting in quite a nest of waste paper, drank coffeeall the evening and dictated at intervals to her eldest daughter.

　　She also held a discussion with Mr. Quale, of which the subjectseemed to be--if I understood it--the brotherhood of humanity, andgave utterance to some beautiful sentiments. I was not soattentive an auditor as I might have wished to be, however, forPeepy and the other children came flocking about Ada and me in acorner of the drawing-room to ask for another story; so we sat downamong them and told them in whispers "Puss in Boots" and I don'tknow what else until Mrs. Jellyby, accidentally remembering them,sent them to bed. As Peepy cried for me to take him to bed, Icarried him upstairs, where the young woman with the flannelbandage charged into the midst of the little family like a dragonand overturned them into cribs.

　　After that I occupied myself in making our room a little tidy andin coaxing a very cross fire that had been lighted to burn, whichat last it did, quite brightly. On my return downstairs, I feltthat Mrs. Jellyby looked down upon me rather for being sofrivolous, and I was sorry for it, though at the same time I knewthat I had no higher pretensions.

　　It was nearly midnight before we found an opportunity of going tobed, and even then we left Mrs. Jellyby among her papers drinkingcoffee and Miss Jellyby biting the feather of her pen.

　　"What a strange house!" said Ada when we got upstairs. "Howcurious of my cousin Jarndyce to send us here!""My love," said I, "it quite confuses me. I want to understand it,and I can't understand it at all.""What?" asked Ada with her pretty smile.

　　"All this, my dear," said I. "It MUST be very good of Mrs. Jellybyto take such pains about a scheme for the benefit of natives--andyet--Peepy and the housekeeping!"Ada laughed and put her arm about my neck as I stood looking at thefire, and told me I was a quiet, dear, good creature and had wonher heart. "You are so thoughtful, Esther," she said, "and yet socheerful! And you do so much, so unpretendingly! You would make ahome out of even this house."My simple darling! She was quite unconscious that she only praisedherself and that it was in the goodness of her own heart that shemade so much of me!

　　"May I ask you a question?" said I when we had sat before the firea little while.

　　"Five hundred," said Ada.

　　"Your cousin, Mr. Jarndyce. I owe so much to him. Would you minddescribing him to me?"Shaking her golden hair, Ada turned her eyes upon me with suchlaughing wonder that I was full of wonder too, partly at herbeauty, partly at her surprise.

　　"Esther!" she cried.

　　"My dear!""You want a description of my cousin Jarndyce?""My dear, I never saw him.""And I never saw him!" returned Ada.

　　Well, to be sure!

　　No, she had never seen him. Young as she was when her mama died,she remembered how the tears would come into her eyes when shespoke of him and of the noble generosity of his character, whichshe had said was to be trusted above all earthly things; and Adatrusted it. Her cousin Jarndyce had written to her a few monthsago--"a plain, honest letter," Ada said--proposing the arrangementwe were now to enter on and telling her that "in time it might healsome of the wounds made by the miserable Chancery suit." She hadreplied, gratefully accepting his proposal. Richard had received asimilar letter and had made a similar response. He HAD seen Mr.

　　Jarndyce once, but only once, five years ago, at Winchester school.

　　He had told Ada, when they were leaning on the screen before thefire where I found them, that he recollected him as "a bluff, rosyfellow." This was the utmost description Ada could give me.

　　It set me thinking so that when Ada was asleep, I still remainedbefore the fire, wondering and wondering about Bleak House, andwondering and wondering that yesterday morning should seem so longago. I don't know where my thoughts had wandered when they wererecalled by a tap at the door.

　　I opened it softly and found Miss Jellyby shivering there with abroken candle in a broken candlestick in one hand and an egg-cup inthe other.

　　"Good night!" she said very sulkily.

　　"Good night!" said I.

　　"May I come in?" she shortly and unexpectedly asked me in the samesulky way.

　　"Certainly," said I. "Don't wake Miss Clare."She would not sit down, but stood by the fire dipping her inkymiddle finger in the egg-cup, which contained vinegar, and smearingit over the ink stains on her face, frowning the whole time andlooking very gloomy.

　　"I wish Africa was dead!" she said on a sudden.

　　I was going to remonstrate.

　　"I do!" she said "Don't talk to me, Miss Summerson. I hate it anddetest it. It's a beast!"I told her she was tired, and I was sorry. I put my hand upon herhead, and touched her forehead, and said it was hot now but wouldbe cool tomorrow. She still stood pouting and frowning at me, butpresently put down her egg-cup and turned softly towards the bedwhere Ada lay.

　　"She is very pretty!" she said with the same knitted brow and inthe same uncivil manner.

　　I assented with a smile.

　　"An orphan. Ain't she?""Yes.""But knows a quantity, I suppose? Can dance, and play music, andsing? She can talk French, I suppose, and do geography, andglobes, and needlework, and everything?""No doubt," said I.

　　"I can't," she returned. "I can't do anything hardly, exceptwrite. I'm always writing for Ma. I wonder you two were notashamed of yourselves to come in this afternoon and see me able todo nothing else. It was like your ill nature. Yet you thinkyourselves very fine, I dare say!"I could see that the poor girl was near crying, and I resumed mychair without speaking and looked at her (I hope) as mildly as Ifelt towards her.

　　"It's disgraceful," she said. "You know it is. The whole house isdisgraceful. The children are disgraceful. I'M disgraceful. Pa'smiserable, and no wonder! Priscilla drinks--she's always drinking.

　　It's a great shame and a great story of you if you say you didn'tsmell her today. It was as bad as a public-house, waiting atdinner; you know it was!""My dear, I don't know it," said I.

　　"You do," she said very shortly. "You shan't say you don't. Youdo!""Oh, my dear!" said I. "If you won't let me speak--""You're speaking now. You know you are. Don't tell stories, MissSummerson.""My dear," said I, "as long as you won't hear me out--""I don't want to hear you out.""Oh, yes, I think you do," said I, "because that would be so veryunreasonable. I did not know what you tell me because the servantdid not come near me at dinner; but I don't doubt what you tell me,and I am sorry to hear it.""You needn't make a merit of that," said she.

　　"No, my dear," said I. "That would be very foolish."She was still standing by the bed, and now stooped down (but stillwith the same discontented face) and kissed Ada. That done, shecame softly back and stood by the side of my chair. Her bosom washeaving in a distressful manner that I greatly pitied, but Ithought it better not to speak.

　　"I wish I was dead!" she broke out. "I wish we were all dead. Itwould be a great deal better for us.

　　In a moment afterwards, she knelt on the ground at my side, hid herface in my dress, passionately begged my pardon, and wept. Icomforted her and would have raised her, but she cried no, no; shewanted to stay there!

　　"You used to teach girls," she said, "If you could only have taughtme, I could have learnt from you! I am so very miserable, and Ilike you so much!"I could not persuade her to sit by me or to do anything but move aragged stool to where she was kneeling, and take that, and stillhold my dress in the same manner. By degrees the poor tired girlfell asleep, and then I contrived to raise her head so that itshould rest on my lap, and to cover us both with shawls. The firewent out, and all night long she slumbered thus before the ashygrate. At first I was painfully awake and vainly tried to losemyself, with my eyes closed, among the scenes of the day. Atlength, by slow degrees, they became indistinct and mingled. Ibegan to lose the identity of the sleeper resting on me. Now itwas Ada, now one of my old Reading friends from whom I could notbelieve I had so recently parted. Now it was the little mad womanworn out with curtsying and smiling, now some one in authority atBleak House. Lastly, it was no one, and I was no one.

　　The purblind day was feebly struggling with the fog when I openedmy eyes to encounter those of a dirty-faced little spectre fixedupon me. Peepy had scaled his crib, and crept down in his bed-gownand cap, and was so cold that his teeth were chattering as if hehad cut them all.