Great Expectations

"How do you manage, Biddy," said I, "to learn everything that I learn,

and always to keep up with me?" I was beginning to be rather vain of

my knowledge, for I spent my birthday guineas on it, and set aside the

greater part of my pocket-money for similar investment; though I have no

doubt, now, that the little I knew was extremely dear at the price.

"I might as well ask you," said Biddy, "how you manage?"

"No; because when I come in from the forge of a night, any one can see

me turning to at it. But you never turn to at it, Biddy."

"I suppose I must catch it like a cough," said Biddy, quietly; and went

on with her sewing.

Pursuing my idea as I leaned back in my wooden chair, and looked at

Biddy sewing away with her head on one side, I began to think her rather

an extraordinary girl. For I called to mind now, that she was equally

accomplished in the terms of our trade, and the names of our different

sorts of work, and our various tools. In short, whatever I knew, Biddy

knew. Theoretically, she was already as good a blacksmith as I, or

better.

"You are one of those, Biddy," said I, "who make the most of every

chance. You never had a chance before you came here, and see how

improved you are!"

Biddy looked at me for an instant, and went on with her sewing. "I was

your first teacher though; wasn't I?" said she, as she sewed.

"Biddy!" I exclaimed, in amazement. "Why, you are crying!"

"No I am not," said Biddy, looking up and laughing. "What put that in

your head?"

What could have put it in my head but the glistening of a tear as it

dropped on her work? I sat silent, recalling what a drudge she had been

until Mr. Wopsle's great-aunt successfully overcame that bad habit of

living, so highly desirable to be got rid of by some people. I recalled

the hopeless circumstances by which she had been surrounded in the

miserable little shop and the miserable little noisy evening school,

with that miserable old bundle of incompetence always to be dragged and

shouldered. I reflected that even in those untoward times there must

have been latent in Biddy what was now developing, for, in my first

uneasiness and discontent I had turned to her for help, as a matter of

course. Biddy sat quietly sewing, shedding no more tears, and while I

looked at her and thought about it all, it occurred to me that perhaps

I had not been sufficiently grateful to Biddy. I might have been too

reserved, and should have patronized her more (though I did not use that

precise word in my meditations) with my confidence.