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happy for once in her youthful appearance； feigned to cling to and rely
upon Maggy。 And more than once some voice； from among a knot of brawling
or prowling figures in their path； had called out to the rest to 'let
the woman and the child go by！'
So； the woman and the child had gone by； and gone on； and five had
sounded from the steeples。 They were walking slowly towards the east；
already looking for the first pale streak of day； when a woman came
after them。
'What are you doing with the child？' she said to Maggy。
She was young……far too young to be there； Heaven knows！……and neither
ugly nor wicked…looking。 She spoke coarsely； but with no naturally
coarse voice； there was even something musical in its sound。 'What are
you doing with yourself？' retorted Maggy； for want Of a better answer。
'Can't you see； without my telling you？'
'I don't know as I can；' said Maggy。
'Killing myself！ Now I have answered you； answer me。 What are you doing
with the child？'
The supposed child kept her head drooped down； and kept her form close
at Maggy's side。
'Poor thing！' said the woman。 'Have you no feeling； that you keep her
out in the cruel streets at such a time as this？ Have you no eyes； that
you don't see how delicate and slender she is？ Have you no sense （you
don't look as if you had much） that you don't take more pity on this
cold and trembling little hand？'
She had stepped across to that side； and held the hand between her own
two； chafing it。 'Kiss a poor lost creature； dear；' she said； bending
her face； 'and tell me where's she taking you。'
Little Dorrit turned towards her。
'Why； my God！' she said； recoiling； 'you're a woman！'
'Don't mind that！' said Little Dorrit； clasping one of her hands that
had suddenly released hers。 'I am not afraid of you。'
'Then you had better be；' she answered。 'Have you no mother？'
'No。'
'No father？'
'Yes； a very dear one。'
'Go home to him； and be afraid of me。 Let me go。 Good night！'
'I must thank you first； let me speak to you as if I really were a
child。'
'You can't do it；' said the woman。 'You are kind and innocent； but you
can't look at me out of a child's eyes。 I never should have touched you；
but I thought that you were a child。' And with a strange； wild cry； she
went away。
No day yet in the sky； but there was day in the resounding stones of
the streets； in the waggons； carts； and coaches； in the workers going
to various occupations； in the opening of early shops； in the traffic
at markets； in the stir of the riverside。 There was ing day in the
flaring lights； with a feebler colour in them than they would have had
at another time； ing day in the increased sharpness of the air； and
the ghastly dying of the night。
They went back again to the gate； intending to wait there now until it
should be opened； but the air was so raw and cold that Little Dorrit；
leading Maggy about in her sleep； kept in motion。 Going round by the
Church； she saw lights there； and the door open； and went up the steps
and looked in。
'Who's that？' cried a stout old man； who was putting on a nightcap as if
he were going to bed in a vault。
'It's no one particular； sir；' said Little Dorrit。
'Stop！' cried the man。 'Let's have a look at you！'
This caused her to turn back again in the act of going out； and to
present herself and her charge before him。
'I thought so！' said he。 'I know YOU。'
'We have often seen each other；' said Little Dorrit； recognising the
sexton； or the beadle； or the verger； or whatever he was； 'when I have
been at church here。'
'More than that； we've got your birth in our Register； you know； you're
one of our curiosities。'
'Indeed！' said Little Dorrit。
'To be sure。 As the child of the……by…the…bye； how did you get out so
early？'
'We were shut out last night； and are waiting to get in。'
'You don't mean it？ And there's another hour good yet！ e into the
vestry。 You'll find a fire in the vestry； on account of the painters。
I'm waiting for the painters； or I shouldn't be here； you may depend
upon it。 One of our curiosities mustn't be cold when we have it in our
power to warm her up fortable。 e along。'
He was a very good old fellow； in his familiar way； and having stirred
the vestry fire； he looked round the shelves of registers for a
particular volume。 'Here you are； you see；' he said； taking it down and
turning the leaves。 'Here you'll find yourself； as large as life。 Amy；
daughter of William and Fanny Dorrit。 Born； Marshalsea Prison； Parish of
St George。 And we tell people that you have lived there； without so much
as a day's or a night's absence； ever since。 Is it true？'
'Quite true； till last night。' 'Lord！' But his surveying her with an
admiring gaze suggested Something else to him； to wit： 'I am sorry to
see； though； that you are faint and tired。 Stay a bit。 I'll get some
cushions out of the church； and you and your friend shall lie down
before the fire。
Don't be afraid of not going in to join your father when the gate opens。
I'll call you。'
He soon brought in the cushions； and strewed them on the ground。
'There you are； you see。 Again as large as life。 Oh； never mind
thanking。 I've daughters of my own。 And though they weren't born in the
Marshalsea Prison； they might have been； if I had been； in my ways of
carrying on； of your father's breed。 Stop a bit。 I must put something
under the cushion for your head。 Here's a burial volume； just the
thing！ We have got Mrs Bangham in this book。 But what makes these books
interesting to most people is……not who's in 'em； but who isn't……who's
ing； you know； and when。 That's the interesting question。'
mendingly looking back at the pillow he had improvised； he left them
to their hour's repose。 Maggy was snoring already； and Little Dorrit
was soon fast asleep with her head resting on that sealed book of Fate；
untroubled by its mysterious blank leaves。
This was Little Dorrit's party。 The shame； desertion； wretchedness； and
exposure of the great capital； the wet； the cold； the slow hours； and
the swift clouds of the dismal night。 This was the party from which
Little Dorrit went home； jaded； in the first grey mist of a rainy
morning。
CHAPTER 15。 Mrs Flintwinch has another Dream
The debilitated old house in the city； wrapped in its mantle of soot；
and leaning heavily on the crutches that had partaken of its decay and
worn out with it； never knew a healthy or a cheerful interval； let what
would betide。 If the sun ever touched it； it was but with a ray； and
that was gone in half an hour； if the moonlight ever fell upon it； it
was only to put a few patches on its doleful cloak； and make it look
more wretched。 The stars； to be sure； coldly watched it when the nights
and the smoke were clear enough； and all bad weather stood by it with
a rare fidelity。 You should alike find rain； hail； frost； and thaw
lingering in that dismal enclosure when they had vanished from other
places； and as to snow； you should see it there for weeks； long after
it had changed from yellow to black； slowly weeping away its grimy life。
The place had no other adherents。 As to street noises； the rumbling of
wheels in the lane merely rushed in at the gateway in going past； and
rushed out again： making the listening Mistress Affery feel as if she
were deaf； and recovered the sense of hearing by instantaneous flashes。
So with whistling； singing； talking； laughing； and all pleasant human
sounds。 They leaped the gap in a moment； and went upon their way。 The
varying light of fire and candle in Mrs Clennam's room made the greatest
change that ever broke the dead monotony of the spot。 In her two long
narrow windows； the fire shone sullenly all day； and sullenly all night。
On rare occasions it flashed up passionately； as she did； but for the
most part it was suppressed； like her； and preyed upon itself evenly and
slowly。 During many hours of the short winter days； however； when it was
dusk there early in the afternoon； changing distortions of herself
in her wheeled chair； of Mr Flintwinch with his wry neck； of Mistress
Affery ing and going； would be thrown upon the house wall that was
over the gateway； and would hover there like shadows from a great magic
lantern。 As the room…ridden invalid settled for the night； these would
gradually disappear： Mistress Affery's magnified shadow always flitting
about； last； until it finally glided away into the air； as though she
were off upon a witch excursion。 Then the solitary light would burn
unchangingly； until it burned pale before the dawn； and at last died
under the breath of Mrs Affery； as her shadow descended on it from the
witch…region of sleep。
Strange； if the little sick…room fire were in effect a beacon fire；
summoning some one； and that the most unlikely some one in the world；
to the spot that MUST be e to。 Strange； if the little sick…room light
were in effect a watch…light； burning in that place every night until
an appointed event should be watched out！ Which of the vast multitude
of travellers； under the sun and the stars； climbing the dusty hills
and toiling along the weary plains； journeying by land and journeying by
sea； ing and going so strangely； to