“Analysis,” said Miss Blimber, “of the character of P. Dombey.  It may be generally observed of Dombey,” said Miss Blimber, reading in a loud voice, and at every second word directing her spectacles towards the little figure before her, “that his abilities and inclinations are good, and that he has made as much progress as under the circumstances could have been expected.  But it is to be lamented of this young gentleman that he is singular (what is usually termed old-fashioned) in his character and conduct, and that he is often very unlike other young gentlemen of his age and social position.  Now, Dombey,” said Miss Blimber, laying down the paper, “do you understand?  This analysis, you see, Dombey,” Miss Blimber continued, “is going to be sent home to your respected parent.  It will naturally be very painful to him to find that you are singular in your character and conduct.  It is naturally very painful to us, for we can’t like you, you know, Dombey, as well as we could wish.”

She touched the child upon a tender point.  He had secretly become more solicitous from day to day that all the house should like him.  He could not bear to think that they would be quite indifferent to him when he was gone, and he had even made it his business to conciliate a great, hoarse, shaggy dog, who had previously been the terror of his life, that even he might miss him.

This poor tiny Paul set forth to Miss Blimber as well as he could and begged her, in spite of the official analysis, to have the goodness to try to like him.  To Mrs. Blimber, who had joined them, he preferred the same petition; and when she gave her oft-repeated opinion that he was an odd child, Paul told her that he was sure that she was quite right; that he thought it must be his bones, but he didn’t know, and he hoped she would overlook it, for he was fond of them all.

“Not so fond,” said Paul, with a mixture of frankness and timidity which was one of the most peculiar and engaging qualities of his, “not so fond as I am of Florence, of course; that could never be.  You couldn’t expect that, could you, ma’am?”

“Oh, the old-fashioned little soul!” cried Mrs. Blimber, in a whisper.

“But I like everybody here very much,” pursued Paul, “and I should grieve to go away and think that any one was glad I had gone, or didn’t care.”

Mrs. Blimber was now sure that Paul was the oddest child in the world, and when she told the doctor what had passed, he did not controvert his wife’s opinion.

And Paul’s wish was gratified.  His purpose was to be a gentle, helpful, quiet little fellow, and though he was often to be seen at his old post on the stairs, or watching the waves or the clouds from his solitary window, he was oftener found too, among the other boys, modestly rendering them some little voluntary service.  Thus it came to pass that Paul was an object of general interest:  a fragile little plaything that they all liked, and that no one would have thought of treating roughly.  But he could not change his nature, and so they all agreed that Dombey was old-fashioned.