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Updated: June 11, 2025
'Of course you think, said Berry, gently doing what she was asked, 'that he has been nursed by his mother, too? 'Betsey Jane, returned Mrs Wickam in her most solemn tones, 'was put upon as that child has been put upon, and changed as that child has changed. I have seen her sit, often and often, think, think, thinking, like him. I have seen her look, often and often, old, old, old, like him.
Mrs Wickam, with her eyes suffused with tears, relates melancholy anecdotes; and tells them how she always said at Mrs Pipchin's that it would be so, and takes more table-ale than usual, and is very sorry but sociable. Cook's state of mind is similar. She promises a little fry for supper, and struggles about equally against her feelings and the onions.
When he was nearly five years old, he was a pretty little fellow, but so very delicate that Mr. Dombey became alarmed about him, and decided to send him at once to the seashore. So to Brighton, Paul and Florence and nurse Wickam went, and boarded with a certain Mrs. Pipchin there. On Saturdays Mr.
'I hope, Miss Berry, Mrs Wickam would observe, 'that you'll come into whatever little property there may be to leave. You deserve it, I am sure, for yours is a trying life. Though there don't seem much worth coming into you'll excuse my being so open in this dismal den.
'Thank you, Miss, I'm sure, said Mrs Wickam grimly. 'If I was so inclined, the loneliness of this situation you'll excuse my speaking so free would put it out of my power, in four and twenty hours; but I ain't at all. I'd rather not. The little spirits that I ever had, I was bereaved of at Brighton some few years ago, and I think I feel myself the better for it.
I couldn't say how, nor I couldn't say when, nor I couldn't say whether the dear child knew it or not, but Betsey Jane had been watched by her mother, Miss Berry! and Mrs Wickam, with a very white face, and with watery eyes, and with a tremulous voice, again looked fearfully round the room, and towards Paul in bed. 'Nonsense! cried Miss Berry somewhat resentful of the idea.
It is a weakness, and soon passes. Better for you as it is. Better for me! How different her hold upon the hand, from what it had been when she took it by the fireside on the bleak winter evening! Scorn, rage, defiance, recklessness, look here! This is the end. Mrs Wickam having clinked sufficiently among the bottles, now produced the mixture.
Mrs Wickam then sprinkled a little cooling-stuff about the room, with the air of a female grave-digger, who was strewing ashes on ashes, dust on dust for she was a serious character and withdrew to partake of certain funeral baked meats downstairs. 'How long is it, asked Alice, 'since I went to you and told you what I had done, and when you were advised it was too late for anyone to follow?
Your aunt is an old lady, Miss Berry, and it's what you must have looked for, often. This consolatory farewell, Mrs Wickam accompanied with a look of heartfelt anguish; and being left alone with the two children again, and becoming conscious that the wind was blowing mournfully, she indulged in melancholy that cheapest and most accessible of luxuries until she was overpowered by slumber.
Kiss me, Floy. He had even a dislike, at such times, to the company of Wickam, and was well pleased when she strolled away, as she generally did, to pick up shells and acquaintances.
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