when our usual exercise was over, and I had
landed her at her dressing-table, she stayed me
with a movement of her impatient fingers:

"Tell me the name again of that blacksmith
of yours."

"Joe Gargery, ma'am."

"Meaning the master you were to be
apprenticed to?"

"Yes, Miss Havisham."

"You had better be apprenticed at once.
Would Gargery come here with you, and bring
your indentures, do you think?"

I signified that I had no doubt he would take
it as an honour to be asked.

"Then let him come."

"At any particular time, Miss Havisham?"

"There, there!  I know nothing about times.
Let him come soon, and come alone with you."

When I got home at night, and delivered this
message for Joe, my sister "went on the
Rampage," in a more alarming degree than
at any previous period. She asked me and
Joe whether we supposed she was door-mats
under our feet, and how we dared to use
her so, and what company we graciously
thought, she was fit for? When she had
exhausted a torrent of such inquiries, she threw a
candlestick at Joe, burst into a loud sobbing,
got out the dustpan—- which was always a very
bad sign—- put on her coarse apron, and began
cleaning up to a terrible extent. Not satisfied
with a dry cleaning, she took to a pail and
scrubbing-brush, and cleaned us out of house
and home, so that we stood shivering in the
back yard. It was ten o'clock at night before
we ventured to creep in again, and then she
asked Joe why he hadn't married a Negress Slave
at once? Joe offered no answer, poor fellow,
but stood feeling his whisker and looking
dejectedly at me, as if he thought it really might
have been a better speculation.

CHAPTER XIII.

IT was a trial to my feelings, on the next day
but one, to see Joe arraying himself in his
Sunday clothes to accompany me to Miss
Havisham's. However, as he thought his court-suit
necessary to the occasion, it was not for me to
tell him that he looked far better in his working
dress; the rather, because I knew he made
himself so dreadfully uncomfortable, entirely on my
account, and that it was for me he pulled up his
shirt-collar so very high behind, that it made the
hair on the crown of his head stand up like a
tuft of feathers.

At breakfast-time my sister declared her
intention of going to town with us, and being left
at Uncle Pumblechook's, and called for " when
we had done with our fine ladies"—- a way of
putting the case, from which Joe appeared
inclined to augur the worst. The forge was shut
up for the day, and Joe inscribed in chalk upon
the door (as it was his custom to do on the.
rare occasions when he was not at work) the
monosyllable HOUT, accompanied by a sketch of
an arrow supposed to be flying in the direction
he had taken.

We walked to town, my sister leading the
way in a very large beaver bonnet, and carrying
a basket like the Great Seal of England in
plaited straw, a pair of pattens, a spare shawl,
and an umbrella, though it was a fine bright day.
I am not quite clear whether these articles were
carried penitentially or ostentatiously; but, I
rather think they were displayed as articles of
property—- much as Cleopatra or any other
sovereign lady on the Rampage might exhibit her
wealth in a pageant or procession.

When, we came to Pumblechook's, my sister
bounced in and left us. As it was almost noon,
Joe and I held straight on to Miss Havisham's
house. Estella opened the gate as usual, and,
the moment she appeared, Joe took his hat off
and stood weighing it by the brim in both his
hands: as if he had some urgent reason in his
mind for being particular to half a quarter of an
ounce.

Estella took no notice of either of us, but led
us the way that I knew so well. I followed
next to her, and Joe came last. When I looked
back at Joe in the long passage, he was still
weighing his hat with the greatest care, and was
coming after us in long strides on the tips of his
toes.

Estella told me we were both to go in, so I
took Joe by the coat-cuff and conducted him
into Miss Havisham's presence. She was seated
at her dressing-table, and looked round at us
immediately.

"Oh!" said she to Joe. " You are the
husband of the sister of this boy?"

I could hardly have imagined dear old Joe
looking so unlike himself or so like some
extraordinary bird; standing, as he did, speechless,
with his tuft of feathers ruffled, and his mouth
open, as if he wanted a worm.

"You are the husband," repeated Miss Havisham,
"of the sister of this boy?"

It was very aggravating; but, throughout the
interview Joe persisted in addressing Me instead
of Miss Havisham.

"Which I meantersay, Pip," Joe now
observed in a manner that was at once expressive
of forcible argumentation, strict confidence, and
great politeness, " as I hup and married your
sister, and I were at the time what you might
call (if you was anyways inclined) a single man."

"Well!" said Miss Havisham. "And you have
reared the boy, with the intention of taking him
for your apprentice; is that so, Mr. Gargery?"

"You know, Pip," replied Joe, " as you and
me were ever friends, and it were look'd for'ard
to betwixt us, as being calc'lated to lead to
larks. Not but what, Pip, if you had ever made
objections to the business—- such as its being open
to black and sut, or such-like—- not but what they
would have been attended to, don't you see?"

"Has the boy," said Miss Havisham, " ever
made any objection? Does he like the trade?"

"Which it is well beknown to yourself, Pip,"
returned Joe, strengthening his former mixture
of argumentation, confidence, and politeness,
"that it were the wish of your own hart."
(I saw the idea suddenly break upon him