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Updated: May 24, 2025
However, the Bleeding Hearts were kind hearts; and when they saw the little fellow cheerily limping about with a good-humoured face, doing no harm, drawing no knives, committing no outrageous immoralities, living chiefly on farinaceous and milk diet, and playing with Mrs Plornish's children of an evening, they began to think that although he could never hope to be an Englishman, still it would be hard to visit that affliction on his head.
By this time he was on friendly terms with the Plornish family, having often looked in upon them at similar seasons, and borne his part in recollections of Miss Dorrit. Mrs Plornish's shop-parlour had been decorated under her own eye, and presented, on the side towards the shop, a little fiction in which Mrs Plornish unspeakably rejoiced.
At the top of the steps, resisting Mrs Plornish's invitations to come and sit along with father in Happy Cottage which to his relief were not so numerous as they would have been on any other night than Saturday, when the connection who so gallantly supported the business with everything but money gave their orders freely at the top of the steps Mr Pancks remained until he beheld the Patriarch, who always entered the Yard at the other end, slowly advancing, beaming, and surrounded by suitors.
He couldn't go mollancholy mad, and even if he did, you wouldn't be the better for it. In Mr Plornish's judgment you would be the worse for it. Yet you seemed to want to make a man mollancholy mad. You was always at it if not with your right hand, with your left. What was they a doing in the Yard? Why, take a look at 'em and see.
From one of the many such defeats of one of many rent-days, Mr Pancks, having finished his day's collection, repaired with his note-book under his arm to Mrs Plornish's corner. Mr Pancks's object was not professional, but social. He had had a trying day, and wanted a little brightening.
'O yes! said Arthur Clennam. 'Well, sir, this is Mrs Plornish's father. 'Indeed? I am glad to see him. 'You would be more glad if you knew his many good qualities, Mr Clennam. 'I hope I shall come to know them through knowing him, said Arthur, secretly pitying the bowed and submissive figure.
On the very next morning, as he was turning in Bleeding Heart Yard by Mrs Plornish's corner, Mrs Plornish stood at the door waiting for him, and mysteriously besought him to step into Happy Cottage. There he found Mr Rugg. 'I thought I'd wait for you here. I wouldn't go on to the Counting-house this morning if I was you, sir. 'Why not, Mr Rugg? 'There are as many as five out, to my knowledge.
The only thing that stands in its way, sir, is the Credit. This drawback, rather severely felt by most people who engaged in commercial transactions with the inhabitants of Bleeding Heart Yard, was a large stumbling-block in Mrs Plornish's trade.
'I thought so, he observed. 'I knew where you were bound to. Good! He then steamed back to his Dock, put it carefully in order, took down his hat, looked round the Dock, said 'Good-bye! and puffed away on his own account. He steered straight for Mrs Plornish's end of Bleeding Heart Yard, and arrived there, at the top of the steps, hotter than ever.
To Mrs Plornish, it was still a most beautiful cottage, a most wonderful deception; and it made no difference that Mr Plornish's eye was some inches above the level of the gable bed-room in the thatch. To come out into the shop after it was shut, and hear her father sing a song inside this cottage, was a perfect Pastoral to Mrs Plornish, the Golden Age revived.
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