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 pursuing her employment with a placid smile. “Though I wish,” and she shook her head, “she was more interested in the Borrioboolan project.”

“I have come with Caddy,” said I, “because Caddy justly thinks she ought not to have a secret from her mother; and fancies I shall encourage and aid her (though I am sure I don't know how), in imparting one.”

“Caddy,” said Mrs. Jellyby, pausing for a moment in her occupation, and then serenely pursuing it after shaking her head, “you are going to tell me some nonsense.”

Caddy untied the strings of her bonnet, took her bonnet off, and letting it dangle on the floor by the strings, and crying heartily, said, “Ma, I am engaged.”

“O, you ridicidous child!” observed Mrs. Jellyby, with an abstracted air, as she looked over the dispatch last opened; “what a goose you are!”

“I am engaged. Ma,” sobbed Caddy, “to young Mr. Turveydrop, at the Academy; and old Mr. Turveydrop (who is a very gentlemanly man indeed) has given his consent, and I beg and pray you'll give us yours, Ma, because I never could be happy without it. I never, never could!” sobbed Caddy, quite forgetful of her general complainings, and of everything but her natural affection.

“You see again, Miss Summerson,” observed Mrs. Jellyby, serenely, “what a happiness it is to be so much occupied as I am, and to have this necessity for self-concentration that I have. Here is Caddy engaged to a dancing-master's son—mixed up with people who have no more sympathy with, the destinies of the human race, than she has herself! This, too, when Mr. Gusher, one of the first philanthropists of our time, has mentioned to me that he was really disposed to be interested in her!”

“Ma, I always hated and detested Mr. Gusher!” sobbed Caddy.

“Caddy, Caddy!” returned Mrs. Jellyby, opening another letter with the greatest complacency. “I have no doubt you did. How could you do otherwise, being totally destitute of the sympathies with which he overflows! Now, if my public duties were not a favourite child to me, if I were not occupied with large measures on a vast scale, these petty details might grieve me very much, Miss Summerson. But can I permit the film of a silly proceeding on the part of Caddy (from whom I expect nothing else), to interpose between me and the great African continent? No. No.” repeated Mrs. Jellyby, in a calm clear voice, and with an agreeable smile as she opened more letters and sorted them. “No, indeed.”

I was so unprepared for the perfect coolness of this reception, though I might have expected it, that I did not know what to say. Caddy seemed equally at a loss. Mrs. Jellyby continued to open and sort letters; and to repeat occasionally, in quite a charming tone of voice, and with a smile of perfect composure, “No, indeed.”

“I hope, Ma,” sobbed poor Caddy at last, “you are not angry?”

“O Caddy, you really are an absurd girl,” returned Mrs. Jellyby, “to ask such questions, after what I have said of the preoccupation of my mind.”

“And I hope. Ma, you give us your consent, and wish us well?” said Caddy.

“You are a nonsensical child, to have done anything of this kind,”