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you had？'
His name was Plornish； Little Dorrit said。
And where did Plornish live？ Plornish lived in Bleeding Heart Yard。 He
was 'only a plasterer；' Little Dorrit said； as a caution to him not to
form high social expectations of Plornish。 He lived at the last house in
Bleeding Heart Yard； and his name was over a little gateway。 Arthur took
down the address and gave her his。 He had now done all he sought to do
for the present； except that he wished to leave her with a reliance
upon him； and to have something like a promise from her that she would
cherish it。
'There is one friend！' he said； putting up his pocketbook。 'As I take
you back……you are going back？'
'Oh yes！ going straight home。'
'As I take you back；' the word home jarred upon him； 'let me ask you to
persuade yourself that you have another friend。 I make no professions；
and say no more。'
'You are truly kind to me； sir。 I am sure I need no more。'
They walked back through the miserable muddy streets； and among the
poor； mean shops； and were jostled by the crowds of dirty hucksters
usual to a poor neighbourhood。 There was nothing； by the short way； that
was pleasant to any of the five senses。 Yet it was not a mon passage
through mon rain； and mire； and noise； to Clennam； having this
little； slender； careful creature on his arm。 How young she seemed to
him； or how old he to her； or what a secret either to the other； in that
beginning of the destined interweaving of their stories； matters not
here。 He thought of her having been born and bred among these scenes；
and shrinking through them now； familiar yet misplaced； he thought
of her long acquaintance with the squalid needs of life； and of her
innocence； of her solicitude for others； and her few years； and her
childish aspect。
They were e into the High Street； where the prison stood； when a
voice cried； 'Little mother； little mother！' Little Dorrit stopping and
looking back； an excited figure of a strange kind bounced against them
（still crying 'little mother'）； fell down； and scattered the contents of
a large basket； filled with potatoes； in the mud。
'Oh； Maggy；' said Little Dorrit； 'what a clumsy child you are！'
Maggy was not hurt； but picked herself up immediately； and then began
to pick up the potatoes； in which both Little Dorrit and Arthur Clennam
helped。 Maggy picked up very few potatoes and a great quantity of mud；
but they were all recovered； and deposited in the basket。 Maggy then
smeared her muddy face with her shawl； and presenting it to Mr Clennam
as a type of purity； enabled him to see what she was like。
She was about eight…and…twenty； with large bones； large features； large
feet and hands； large eyes and no hair。 Her large eyes were limpid and
almost colourless； they seemed to be very little affected by light；
and to stand unnaturally still。 There was also that attentive listening
expression in her face； which is seen in the faces of the blind； but she
was not blind； having one tolerably serviceable eye。 Her face was not
exceedingly ugly； though it was only redeemed from being so by a smile；
a good…humoured smile； and pleasant in itself； but rendered pitiable
by being constantly there。 A great white cap； with a quantity of
opaque frilling that was always flapping about； apologised for Maggy's
baldness； and made it so very difficult for her old black bon to
retain its place upon her head； that it held on round her neck like a
gipsy's baby。 A mission of haberdashers could alone have reported
what the rest of her poor dress was made of； but it had a strong general
resemblance to seaweed； with here and there a gigantic tea…leaf。 Her
shawl looked particularly like a tea…leaf after long infusion。
Arthur Clennam looked at Little Dorrit with the expression of one
saying； 'May I ask who this is？' Little Dorrit； whose hand this Maggy；
still calling her little mother； had begun to fondle； answered in words
（they were under a gateway into which the majority of the potatoes had
rolled）。
'This is Maggy； sir。'
'Maggy； sir；' echoed the personage presented。 'Little mother！'
'She is the grand…daughter……' said Little Dorrit。
'Grand…daughter；' echoed Maggy。
'Of my old nurse； who has been dead a long time。 Maggy； how old are
you？'
'Ten； mother；' said Maggy。
'You can't think how good she is； sir；' said Little Dorrit； with
infinite tenderness。
'Good SHE is；' echoed Maggy； transferring the pronoun in a most
expressive way from herself to her little mother。
'Or how clever；' said Little Dorrit。 'She goes on errands as well as
any one。' Maggy laughed。 'And is as trustworthy as the Bank of England。'
Maggy laughed。 'She earns her own living entirely。 Entirely； sir！' said
Little Dorrit； in a lower and triumphant tone。
'Really does！'
'What is her history？' asked Clennam。
'Think of that； Maggy？' said Little Dorrit； taking her two large hands
and clapping them together。 'A gentleman from thousands of miles away；
wanting to know your history！'
'My history？' cried Maggy。 'Little mother。'
'She means me；' said Little Dorrit； rather confused； 'she is very much
attached to me。 Her old grandmother was not so kind to her as she should
have been； was she； Maggy？' Maggy shook her head； made a drinking vessel
of her clenched left hand； drank out of it； and said； 'Gin。' Then beat
an imaginary child； and said； 'Broom…handles and pokers。'
'When Maggy was ten years old；' said Little Dorrit； watching her face
while she spoke； 'she had a bad fever； sir； and she has never grown any
older ever since。'
'Ten years old；' said Maggy； nodding her head。 'But what a nice
hospital！ So fortable； wasn't it？ Oh so nice it was。 Such a Ev'nly
place！'
'She had never been at peace before； sir；' said Little Dorrit； turning
towards Arthur for an instant and speaking low； 'and she always runs off
upon that。'
'Such beds there is there！' cried Maggy。 'Such lemonades！ Such oranges！
Such d'licious broth and wine！ Such Chicking！ Oh； AIN'T it a delightful
place to go and stop at！'
'So Maggy stopped there as long as she could；' said Little Dorrit；
in her former tone of telling a child's story； the tone designed for
Maggy's ear； 'and at last； when she could stop there no longer； she came
out。 Then； because she was never to be more than ten years old； however
long she lived……'
'However long she lived；' echoed Maggy。
'And because she was very weak； indeed was so weak that when she began
to laugh she couldn't stop herself……which was a great pity……'
（Maggy mighty grave of a sudden。）
'Her grandmother did not know what to do with her； and for some years
was very unkind to her indeed。 At length； in course of time； Maggy began
to take pains to improve herself； and to be very attentive and very
industrious； and by degrees was allowed to e in and out as often as
she liked； and got enough to do to support herself； and does support
herself。 And that；' said Little Dorrit； clapping the two great hands
together again； 'is Maggy's history； as Maggy knows！'
Ah！ But Arthur would have known what was wanting to its pleteness；
though he had never heard of the words Little mother； though he had
never seen the fondling of the small spare hand； though he had had no
sight for the tears now standing in the colourless eyes； though he had
had no hearing for the sob that checked the clumsy laugh。 The dirty
gateway with the wind and rain whistling through it； and the basket of
muddy potatoes waiting to be spilt again or taken up； never seemed the
mon hole it really was； when he looked back to it by these lights。
Never； never！
They were very near the end of their walk； and they now came out of the
gateway to finish it。 Nothing would serve Maggy but that they must stop
at a grocer's window； short of their destination； for her to show her
learning。 She could read after a sort； and picked out the fat figures in
the tickets of prices； for the most part correctly。 She also stumbled；
with a large balance of success against her failures； through various
philanthropic remendations to Try our Mixture； Try our Family Black；
Try our Orange…flavoured Pekoe； challenging petition at the head
of Flowery Teas； and various cautions to the public against spurious
establishments and adulterated articles。 When he saw how pleasure
brought a rosy tint into Little Dorrit's face when Maggy made a hit；
he felt that he could have stood there making a library of the grocer's
window until the rain and wind were tired。
The court…yard received them at last； and there he said goodbye to
Little Dorrit。 Little as she had always looked； she looked less than
ever when he saw her going into the Marshalsea lodge passage； the little
mother attended by her big child。 The cage door opened； and when the
small bird； reared in captivity； had tamely fluttered in； he saw it shut
again； and then he came away。
CHAPTER 10。 Containing the whole Science of Government
The Circumlocution Office was （as everybody knows without being told）
the most important Department under Government。 No public business of
any kind could possibly be done at any time without the acquiescence of
the Circumlocution Office。 Its finger was in the largest public pie；