often. We don’t walk like that. We should grow proud on such neighbours! Do you hear him?"
"I believe you are right, mother," replied Alice, in a low voice. "Peace! open the door."
As she drew herself within her shawl, and gathered it about her, the old woman complied; and peering out, and beckoning, gave admission to Mr. Dombey, who stopped when he had set his foot within the door, and looked distrustfully around.
"It’s a poor place for a great gentleman like your worship," said the old woman, curtseying and chattering. "I told you so, but there’s no harm in it."
"Who is that?" asked Mr. Dombey, looking at her companion.
"That’s my handsome daughter," said the old woman. "Your worship won’t mind her. She knows all about it."
A shadow fell upon his face not less expressive than if he had groaned aloud, "Who does not know all about it!" but he looked at her steadily, and she, without any acknowledgment of his presence, looked at him. The shadow on his face was darker when he turned his glance away from her; and even then it wandered back again, furtively, as if he were haunted by her bold eyes, and some remembrance they inspired.
"Woman," said Mr. Dombey to the old witch who was chuckling and leering close at his elbow, and who, when he turned to address her, pointed stealthily at her daughter, and rubbed her hands, and pointed again, "Woman! I believe that I am weak and forgetful of my station in coming here, but you know why I come, and what you offered when you stopped me in the street the other day. What is it that you have to tell me concerning what I want to know; and how does it happen that I can find voluntary intelligence in a hovel like this," with a disdainful glance about him, "when I have exerted my power and means to obtain it in vain? I do not think," he said, after a moment’s pause, during which he had observed her, sternly, "that you are so audacious as to mean to trifle with me, or endeavour to impose upon me. But if you have that purpose, you had better stop on the threshold of your scheme. My humour is not a trifling one, and my acknowledgment will be severe."
"Oh a proud, hard gentleman!" chuckled the old woman, shaking her head, and rubbing her shrivelled hands, "oh hard, hard, hard! But your worship shall see with your own eyes and hear with your own ears; not with ours—and if your worship’s put upon their track, you won’t mind paying something for it, will you, honourable deary?"
"Money," returned Mr. Dombey, apparently relieved, and assured by this inquiry, "will bring about unlikely things, I know. It may turn even means as unexpected and unpromising as these, to account. Yes. For any reliable information I receive, I will pay. But I must have the information first, and judge for myself of its value."
"Do you know nothing more powerful than money?" asked the younger woman, without rising, or altering her attitude.
"Not here, I should imagine," said Mr. Dombey.
"You should know of something that is more powerful elsewhere,
