Paul being somewhat too small to be seen from where the doctor sat, over the books on his table, the doctor made several futile attempts to get a view of him round the legs; which Mr. Dombey perceiving, relieved the doctor from his embarrassment by taking Paul up in his arms, and sitting him on another little table in the middle of the room.

“Ha!” said the doctor, leaning back in his chair.  “Now I see my little friend.  How do you do, my little friend?”

“V-ery well, I thank you, sir,” returned Paul.

“Ha!” said Doctor Blimber.  “Shall we make a man of him?”

“Do you hear, Paul?” added Mr. Dombey, Paul being silent.

“I had rather be a child,” replied Paul.

“Indeed!” said the doctor.  “Why?”

The child made no audible answer, and Doctor Blimber continued, “You would wish my little friend to acquire——?”

“Everything, if you please, doctor,” returned Mr. Dombey, firmly.

“Yes,” said the doctor.  “Yes, exactly.  Ha!  We shall impart a great variety of information to our little friend, and bring him quickly forward.”

At this moment Mrs. Blimber entered, followed by her daughter, and they were duly presented to the Dombeys.  There was no light nonsense about Miss Blimber.  She kept her hair short and crisp and wore spectacles.

Mrs. Blimber, her mama, was not learned herself, but she pretended to be, and that did quite as well.  She said at evening parties, that if she could have known Cicero, she thought she could have died content.  It was the steady joy of her life to see the doctor’s young gentlemen go out walking, in the largest possible shirt-collars and the stiffest possible cravats.  It was so classical, she said.

After the introductions were accomplished, Mrs. Blimber took Mr. Dombey upstairs to inspect the dormitories.  While they were gone Paul sat upon the table, holding Florence by the hand, and glancing timidly from the doctor round and round the room, while the doctor held a book from him at arm’s length and read.

Presently Mr. Dombey and Mrs. Blimber returned.

“I hope, Mr. Dombey,” said the doctor laying down his book, “that the arrangements meet with your approval?”

“They are excellent, sir,” said Mr. Dombey, and added, “I think I have given all the trouble I need, and may now take my leave.  Paul my child, good-bye.”

“Good-bye, papa.”

The limp and careless little hand, that Mr. Dombey took in his, was singularly out of keeping with the wistful little face.  But he had no part in its sorrowful expression.  It was not addressed to him.  No, no!  To Florence, all to Florence.

“I shall see you soon, Paul,” said Mr. Dombey, bending over to kiss the child.  “You are free on Saturdays and Sundays, you know.”

“Yes, papa,” returned Paul, looking at his sister.  “On Saturdays and Sundays.”

“And you’ll try and learn a great deal here and be a clever man,” said Mr. Dombey; “won’t you?”