Here his daughter Josephine—­a pretty, fair-haired girl of eighteen, who had been tied on a horse at two years old, and had made a will at twelve, which she always carried about with her, expressive of her dying desire to be drawn to the grave by two piebald ponies—­cried “Father, hush! she has come back!” Then came Sissy Jupe, running into the room as she had run out of it.  And when she saw them all assembled, and saw their looks, and saw no father there, she broke into a most deplorable cry, and took refuge on the bosom of the most accomplished tight-rope lady, who knelt down on the floor to nurse her, and to weep over her.

“Ith an infernal shame, upon my thoul it ith,” said Sleary.

“O my dear father, my good, kind father, where are you gone?  You are gone to try to do me some good, I know!  You are gone away for my sake, I am sure.  And how miserable and helpless you will be without me, poor, poor father, until you come back!” It was so pathetic to hear her saying many things of this kind, with her face turned upward, and her arms stretched out as if she were trying to stop his departing shadow and embrace it, that no one spoke a word until Mr. Bounderby (growing impatient) took the case in hand.

“Now, good people all,” said he, “this is wanton waste of time.  Let the girl understand the fact.  Here, what’s your name!  Your father has absconded, deserted you—­and you mustn’t expect to see him again as long as you live.”

They cared so little for plain fact, these people, that instead of being impressed by the speaker’s strong common sense, they took it in extraordinary dudgeon.  The men muttered “Shame!” and the women, “Brute!” Whereupon Mr. Gradgrind found an opening for his eminently practical exposition of the subject.

“It is of no moment,” said he, “whether this person is to be expected back at any time, or the contrary.  He is gone away, and there is no present expectation of his return.  That, I believe, is agreed on all hands.”

“Thath agreed, Thquire.  Thtick to that!” from Sleary.

“Well, then.  I, who came here to inform the father of the poor girl, Jupe, that she could not be received at the school any more, in consequence of there being practical objections, into which I need not enter, to the reception there of the children of persons so employed, am prepared in these altered circumstances to make a proposal.  I am willing to take charge of you, Jupe, and to educate you, and provide for you.  The only condition (over and above your good behavior) I make is, that you decide now, at once, whether to accompany me or remain here.  Also, that if you accompany me now, it is understood that you communicate no more with any of your friends who are here present.  These observations comprise the whole of the case.”