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Updated: June 11, 2025
Mrs Wickam shook her left fore-finger stealthily towards the bed where Florence lay; then turned it upside down, and made several emphatic points at the floor; immediately below which was the parlour in which Mrs Pipchin habitually consumed the toast. 'Remember my words, Miss Berry, said Mrs Wickam, 'and be thankful that Master Paul is not too fond of you.
In truth, this was the very Mrs Wickam who had superseded Mrs Richards as the nurse of little Paul, and who considered herself to have gained the loss in question, under the roof of the amiable Pipchin.
'He need be. 'Why, he's not ugly when he's awake, observed Berry. 'No, Ma'am. Oh, no. No more was my Uncle's Betsey Jane, said Mrs Wickam. Berry looked as if she would like to trace the connexion of ideas between Paul Dombey and Mrs Wickam's Uncle's Betsey Jane. 'My Uncle's wife, Mrs Wickam went on to say, 'died just like his Mama. My Uncle's child took on just as Master Paul do. 'Took on!
The chill of Paul's christening had struck home, perhaps to some sensitive part of his nature, which could not recover itself in the cold shade of his father; but he was an unfortunate child from that day. Mrs Wickam often said she never see a dear so put upon.
Miss Berry repeated her question, therefore; and after some resistance, and reluctance, Mrs Wickam laid down her knife, and again glancing round the room and at Paul in bed, replied: 'She took fancies to people; whimsical fancies, some of them; others, affections that one might expect to see only stronger than common. They all died.
Mrs Wickam looked hard at her patient in the act of drinking, screwed her mouth up tight, her eyebrows also, and shook her head, expressing that tortures shouldn't make her say it was a hopeless case.
Mrs Wickam, with her eyebrows elevated, and her head on one side, lighted the way upstairs to a clean, neat chamber, opening on another chamber dimly lighted, where there was a bed. In the first room, an old woman sat mechanically staring out at the open window, on the darkness.
'No, nurse, said Florence, laughing. 'Not at all. 'Ah! sighed Mrs Wickam, and she shook her head again, expressing to the watchful Berry, 'we shall be cold enough, some of us, by and by! Berry took the frugal supper-tray, with which Mrs Wickam had by this time done, and bade her good-night. 'Good-night, Miss! returned Wickam softly. 'Good-night!
Not that he cared to whom his daughter turned, or from whom turned away. The swift, sharp agony struck through him as he thought of what his son might do. His son cried lustily that night, at all events; and the next day a new nurse, Wickam by name, took Polly's place. She lavished every care upon little Paul, yet all her vigilance could not make him a thriving boy.
The excellent and thoughtful old system, hallowed by long prescription, which has usually picked out from the rest of mankind the most dreary and uncomfortable people that could possibly be laid hold of, to act as instructors of youth, finger-posts to the virtues, matrons, monitors, attendants on sick beds, and the like, had established Mrs Wickam in very good business as a nurse, and had led to her serious qualities being particularly commended by an admiring and numerous connexion.
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