Great Expectations

Mr. and Mrs. Pocket had a toady neighbor; a widow lady of that highly

sympathetic nature that she agreed with everybody, blessed everybody,

and shed smiles and tears on everybody, according to circumstances. This

lady's name was Mrs. Coiler, and I had the honor of taking her down to

dinner on the day of my installation. She gave me to understand on the

stairs, that it was a blow to dear Mrs. Pocket that dear Mr. Pocket

should be under the necessity of receiving gentlemen to read with him.

That did not extend to me, she told me in a gush of love and confidence

(at that time, I had known her something less than five minutes); if

they were all like Me, it would be quite another thing.

"But dear Mrs. Pocket," said Mrs. Coiler, "after her early

disappointment (not that dear Mr. Pocket was to blame in that), requires

so much luxury and elegance--"

"Yes, ma'am," I said, to stop her, for I was afraid she was going to

cry.

"And she is of so aristocratic a disposition--"

"Yes, ma'am," I said again, with the same object as before.

"--That it is hard," said Mrs. Coiler, "to have dear Mr. Pocket's time

and attention diverted from dear Mrs. Pocket."

I could not help thinking that it might be harder if the butcher's time

and attention were diverted from dear Mrs. Pocket; but I said nothing,

and indeed had enough to do in keeping a bashful watch upon my company

manners.

It came to my knowledge, through what passed between Mrs. Pocket and

Drummle while I was attentive to my knife and fork, spoon, glasses, and

other instruments of self-destruction, that Drummle, whose Christian

name was Bentley, was actually the next heir but one to a baronetcy.

It further appeared that the book I had seen Mrs. Pocket reading in the

garden was all about titles, and that she knew the exact date at which

her grandpapa would have come into the book, if he ever had come at all.

Drummle didn't say much, but in his limited way (he struck me as a sulky

kind of fellow) he spoke as one of the elect, and recognized Mrs. Pocket

as a woman and a sister. No one but themselves and Mrs. Coiler the toady

neighbor showed any interest in this part of the conversation, and it

appeared to me that it was painful to Herbert; but it promised to last

a long time, when the page came in with the announcement of a domestic

affliction. It was, in effect, that the cook had mislaid the beef. To my

unutterable amazement, I now, for the first time, saw Mr. Pocket

relieve his mind by going through a performance that struck me as very

extraordinary, but which made no impression on anybody else, and

with which I soon became as familiar as the rest. He laid down the

carving-knife and fork,--being engaged in carving, at the moment,--put

his two hands into his disturbed hair, and appeared to make an

extraordinary effort to lift himself up by it. When he had done this,

and had not lifted himself up at all, he quietly went on with what he

was about.