Great Expectations by Charles Dickens (best ereader under 100 TXT) 📖

Chapter XIII

It was a trial to my feelings, on the next day but one, to see Joe

arraying himself in his Sunday clothes to accompany me to Miss

Havisham’s. However, as he thought his court-suit necessary to the

occasion, it was not for me tell him that he looked far better in

his working-dress; the rather, because I knew he made himself so

dreadfully uncomfortable, entirely on my account, and that it was

for me he pulled up his shirt-collar so very high behind, that it

made the hair on the crown of his head stand up like a tuft of

feathers.

At breakfast-time my sister declared her intention of going to town

with us, and being left at Uncle Pumblechook’s and called for “when

we had done with our fine ladies”—a way of putting the case, from

which Joe appeared inclined to augur the worst. The forge was shut

up for the day, and Joe inscribed in chalk upon the door (as it was

his custom to do on the very rare occasions when he was not at

work) the monosyllable HOUT, accompanied by a sketch of an arrow

supposed to be flying in the direction he had taken.

We walked to town, my sister leading the way in a very large beaver

bonnet, and carrying a basket like the Great Seal of England in

plaited Straw, a pair of pattens, a spare shawl, and an umbrella,

though it was a fine bright day. I am not quite clear whether these

articles were carried penitentially or ostentatiously; but I

rather think they were displayed as articles of property,—much as

Cleopatra or any other sovereign lady on the Rampage might exhibit

her wealth in a pageant or procession.

When we came to Pumblechook’s, my sister bounced in and left us. As

it was almost noon, Joe and I held straight on to Miss Havisham’s

house. Estella opened the gate as usual, and, the moment she

appeared, Joe took his hat off and stood weighing it by the brim in

both his hands; as if he had some urgent reason in his mind for

being particular to half a quarter of an ounce.

Estella took no notice of either of us, but led us the way that I

knew so well. I followed next to her, and Joe came last. When I

looked back at Joe in the long passage, he was still weighing his

hat with the greatest care, and was coming after us in long strides

on the tips of his toes.

Estella told me we were both to go in, so I took Joe by the

coat-cuff and conducted him into Miss Havisham’s presence. She was

seated at her dressing-table, and looked round at us immediately.

“Oh!” said she to Joe. “You are the husband of the sister of this

boy?”

I could hardly have imagined dear old Joe looking so unlike himself

or so like some extraordinary bird; standing as he did

speechless, with his tuft of feathers ruffled, and his mouth open

as if he wanted a worm.

“You are the husband,” repeated Miss Havisham, “of the sister of

this boy?”

It was very aggravating; but, throughout the interview, Joe

persisted in addressing Me instead of Miss Havisham.

“Which I meantersay, Pip,” Joe now observed in a manner that was at

once expressive of forcible argumentation, strict confidence, and

great politeness, “as I hup and married your sister, and I were at

the time what you might call (if you was anyways inclined) a single

man.”

“Well!” said Miss Havisham. “And you have reared the boy, with the

intention of taking him for your apprentice; is that so, Mr.

Gargery?”

“You know, Pip,” replied Joe, “as you and me were ever friends, and

it were looked for’ard to betwixt us, as being calc’lated to lead

to larks. Not but what, Pip, if you had ever made objections to the

business,—such as its being open to black and sut, or such-like,—

not but what they would have been attended to, don’t you see?”

“Has the boy,” said Miss Havisham, “ever made any objection? Does

he like the trade?”

“Which it is well beknown to yourself, Pip,” returned Joe,

strengthening his former mixture of argumentation, confidence, and

politeness, “that it were the wish of your own hart.” (I saw the

idea suddenly break upon him that he would adapt his epitaph to the

occasion, before he went on to say) “And there weren’t no objection

on your part, and Pip it were the great wish of your hart!”

It was quite in vain for me to endeavor to make him sensible that

he ought to speak to Miss Havisham. The more I made faces and

gestures to him to do it, the more confidential, argumentative, and

polite, he persisted in being to Me.

“Have you brought his indentures with you?” asked Miss Havisham.

“Well, Pip, you know,” replied Joe, as if that were a little

unreasonable, “you yourself see me put ‘em in my ‘at, and therefore

you know as they are here.” With which he took them out, and gave

them, not to Miss Havisham, but to me. I am afraid I was ashamed of

the dear good fellow,—I know I was ashamed of him,—when I saw

that Estella stood at the back of Miss Havisham’s chair, and that

her eyes laughed mischievously. I took the indentures out of his

hand and gave them to Miss Havisham.

“You expected,” said Miss Havisham, as she looked them over, “no

premium with the boy?”

“Joe!” I remonstrated, for he made no reply at all. “Why don’t you

answer—”

“Pip,” returned Joe, cutting me short as if he were hurt, “which I

meantersay that were not a question requiring a answer betwixt

yourself and me, and which you know the answer to be full well No.

You know it to be No, Pip, and wherefore should I say it?”

Miss Havisham glanced at him as if she understood what he really

was better than I had thought possible, seeing what he was there;

and took up a little bag from the table beside her.

“Pip has earned a premium here,” she said, “and here it is. There

are five-and-twenty guineas in this bag. Give it to your master,

Pip.”

As if he were absolutely out of his mind with the wonder awakened

in him by her strange figure and the strange room, Joe, even at

this pass, persisted in addressing me.

“This is wery liberal on your part, Pip,” said Joe, “and it is as

such received and grateful welcome, though never looked for, far

nor near, nor nowheres. And now, old chap,” said Joe, conveying to

me a sensation, first of burning and then of freezing, for I felt

as if that familiar expression were applied to Miss Havisham,—“and

now, old chap, may we do our duty! May you and me do our duty, both

on us, by one and