'I hardly know what to say,' returned Little Dorrit, quite astounded.

'Why?' 'Because I am a fortune-teller. Pancks the gipsy. I haven't told you so

much of your fortune yet, Miss Dorrit, as to tell you what's behind

me on that little hand. I have told you you shall live to see. Is it

agreed, Miss Dorrit?' 'Agreed that I--am--to--'

'To take no notice of me away from here, unless I take on first. Not

to mind me when I come and go. It's very easy. I am no loss, I am not

handsome, I am not good company, I am only my proprietors grubber.

You need do no more than think, "Ah! Pancks the gipsy at his

fortune-telling--he'll tell the rest of my fortune one day--I shall live

to know it." Is it agreed, Miss Dorrit?'

'Ye-es,' faltered Little Dorrit, whom he greatly confused, 'I suppose

so, while you do no harm.' 'Good!' Mr Pancks glanced at the wall of the adjoining room, and stooped

forward. 'Honest creature, woman of capital points, but heedless and

a loose talker, Miss Dorrit.' With that he rubbed his hands as if the

interview had been very satisfactory to him, panted away to the door,

and urbanely nodded himself out again.

If Little Dorrit were beyond measure perplexed by this curious conduct

on the part of her new acquaintance, and by finding herself involved

in this singular treaty, her perplexity was not diminished by ensuing

circumstances. Besides that Mr Pancks took every opportunity afforded

him in Mr Casby's house of significantly glancing at her and snorting

at her--which was not much, after what he had done already--he began to

pervade her daily life.

She saw him in the street, constantly. When she

went to Mr Casby's, he was always there. When she went to Mrs Clennam's,

he came there on any pretence, as if to keep her in his sight. A week

had not gone by, when she found him to her astonishment in the Lodge one

night, conversing with the turnkey on duty, and to all appearance one

of his familiar companions. Her next surprise was to find him equally at

his ease within the prison; to hear of his presenting himself among

the visitors at her father's Sunday levee; to see him arm in arm with

a Collegiate friend about the yard; to learn, from Fame, that he had

greatly distinguished himself one evening at the social club that held

its meetings in the Snuggery, by addressing a speech to the members

of the institution, singing a song, and treating the company to five

gallons of ale--report madly added a bushel of shrimps. The effect on

Mr Plornish of such of these phenomena as he became an eye-witness of in

his faithful visits, made an impression on Little Dorrit only second to

that produced by the phenomena themselves. They seemed to gag and bind

him. He could only stare, and sometimes weakly mutter that it wouldn't

be believed down Bleeding Heart Yard that this was Pancks; but he never

said a word more, or made a sign more, even to Little Dorrit.




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