and she was chiefly remarkable for a total absence of all comprehension upon every subject whatever. She was a perfect Tomb for messages and small parcels; and when despatched to the Post-office with letters, had been frequently seen endeavouring to insinuate them into casual chinks in private doors, under the delusion that any door with a hole in it would answer the purpose. She was a very little old woman, and always wore a very coarse apron with a bib before and a loop behind, together with bandages on her wrists, which appeared to be afflicted with an everlasting sprain. She was on all occasions chary of opening the street-door, and ardent to shut it again; and she waited at table in a bonnet.
This was the only great change over and above the change which had fallen on the youngest gentleman. As for him, he more than corroborated the account of Mrs. Todgers: possessing greater sensibility than even she had given him credit for. He entertained some terrible notions of Destiny, among other matters, and talked much about people's "Missions:" upon which he seemed to have some private information not generally attainable, as he knew it had been poor Merry's mission to crush him in the bud. He was very frail, and tearful; for being aware that a shepherd's mission was to pipe to his flocks, and that a boatswain's mission was to pipe all hands, and that one man's mission was to be a paid piper, and another man's mission was to pay the piper, so he had got it into his head that his own peculiar mission was to pipe his eye. Which he did perpetually.
He often informed Mrs. Todgers that the sun had set upon him; that the billows had rolled over him; that the Car of Juggernaut had crushed him; and also that the deadly Upas tree of Java had blighted him. His name was Moddle.
Towards this most unhappy Moddle, Miss Pecksniff conducted herself at first with distant haughtiness, being in no humour to be entertained with dirges in honour of her married sister. The poor young gentleman was additionally crushed by this, and remonstrated with Mrs. Todgers on the subject.
"Even she turns from me, Mrs. Todgers," said Moddle.
"Then why don't you try and be a little bit more cheerful Sir?" retorted Mrs. Todgers.
"Cheerful Mrs. Todgers! Cheerful!" cried the youngest gentleman: "when she reminds me of days for ever fled, Mrs. Todgers!"
"Then you had better avoid her for a short time if she does," said Mrs. Todgers, "and come to know her again, by degrees. That's my advice."
"But I can't avoid her," replied Moddle. "I haven't strength of mind to do it. Oh Mrs. Todgers, if you knew what a comfort her nose is to me!"
"Her nose, Sir!" Mrs. Todgers cried.
"Her profile in general," said the youngest gentleman, "but particularly her nose. It's so like;" here he yielded to a burst of grief; "It's so like hers who is Another's, Mrs. Todgers!"
The observant matron did not fail to report this conversation to Charity, who laughed at the time, but treated Mr. Moddle that very evening with increased consideration, and presented her side-face to him as much as possible. Mr. Moddle was not less sentimental than usual;
