“For what?” said Joe.

“For the loss of the boy’s services.”

Joe laid a hand on my shoulder with the touch of a woman, saying: 

“Pip is that hearty welcome to go free with his services, to honour and fortune, as no words can tell him!  But if you think as money can make compensation to me for the loss of the little child what come to the forge,—­and ever the best of friends—–­”

O dear, good Joe, whom I was so ready to leave, and so unthankful to—­I see you again to-day, and in a very different light.  I feel the loving tremble of your hand upon my arm as solemnly to-day as if it had been the rustle of an angel’s wing.  But, at the time, I was lost in the mazes of my good fortune, and thought of nothing else, and as Joe remained firm on the money question, Mr. Jaggers rose to go, giving me a few last instructions for reaching London.

Then he left and we vacated the state parlour at once for the kitchen, where my sister and Biddy were sitting.  I told the news of my great expectations and received congratulations, which had in them a touch of sadness which I rather resented.

That night Joe stayed out on the doorstep, smoking a pipe much later than usual, which seemed to hint to me that he wanted comforting, for some reason, but in my arrogant happiness, I could not understand his feelings.

During the next week I was very busy making my preparations to leave.  With some assistance I selected a suit, and went also to the hatter’s and boot-maker’s and hosier’s, and also engaged my place on the Saturday morning coach.  Then I went to make my farewells to Uncle Pumblechook, whom I found awaiting me with pride and impatience, for the news had reached him.  He shook hands with me at least a hundred times, and blessed me, and stood waving his hand at me until I passed out of sight.  It was now Friday, and I dressed up in my new clothes to make a farewell visit to Miss Havisham.  I felt awkward and self-conscious, and rang the bell constrainedly on account of the still long fingers of my new gloves.  Miss Havisham received me as usual, and I explained to her that I was to start for London on the morrow, and that I had come into a fortune, for which I was more grateful than I could express.  She asked me a number of questions, and then said: 

“Well, you have a promising career before you.  Be good, deserve it, and abide by Mr. Jagger’s instructions.  Good-bye, Pip.”  She stretched out her hand, and I knelt down and kissed it,—­and so I left my fairy god-mother, with both her hands on her crutch-stick, standing in the middle of the dimly-lighted room.

I little dreamed then that it was not to her that I owed my Great Expectations, but to my older acquaintance, the convict, for whom I had robbed my sister’s larder long ago.  But of this I little dreamed, and knew nothing until years later.

And now the six days had gone, and to-morrow looked me in the face.  As my departure drew near I became more appreciative of the society of my family.  On this last evening I dressed myself in my new clothes for their delight, and sat in my splendour until bedtime.  We had a hot supper on the occasion, and pretended to be in high spirits, although none of us were.