not in the old kitchen, and Joe was so
exceedingly particular what he did with his knife
and fork and the salt-cellar and what not, that
there was great restraint upon us. But after
dinner, when I made him take his pipe, and
when I had loitered with him about the forge,
and when we sat down together on the great
block of stone outside it, we got on better.
I noticed that after the funeral Joe changed his
clothes so far, as to make a compromise between
his Sunday dress and working dress: in which
the dear fellow looked natural and like the Man
he was.

He was very much pleased by my asking if I
might sleep in my own little room, and I was
pleased too; for I felt that I had done rather a
great thing in making the request. When the
shadows of evening were closing in, I took an
opportunity of getting into the garden with
Biddy for a little talk.

"Biddy," said I, "I think you might have
written to me about these sad matters."

"Do you, Mr. Pip?" said Biddy. "I should
have written if I had thought that."

"Don't suppose that I mean to be unkind,
Biddy, when I say I consider that you ought to
have thought that."

"Do you, Mr. Pip?"

She was so quiet, and had such an orderly,
good, and pretty way with her, that I did not
like the thought of making her cry again. After
looking a little at her downcast eyes, as she
walked beside me, I gave up that point.

"I suppose it will be difficult for you to
remain here now, Biddy dear?"

"Oh! I can't do so, Mr. Pip," said Biddy,
in a tone of regret, but still of quiet
conviction. "I have been speaking to Mrs. Hubble,
and I am going to her to-morrow. I hope we
shall be able to take some care of Mr. Gargery,
together, until he settles down."

"How are you going to live, Biddy? If you
want any mo——"

"How am I going to live?" repeated Biddy,
striking in, with a momentary flush upon her
face. "I'll tell you, Mr. Pip. I am going to
try to get the place of mistress in the new
school nearly finished here. I can be well
recommended by all the neighbours, and I hope I can
be industrious and patient, and teach myself
while I teach others. You know, Mr. Pip,"
pursued Biddy, with a smile, as she raised her
eyes to my face, "the new schools are not like
the old, but I learnt a good deal from you after
that time, and have had time since then to
improve."

"I think you would always improve, Biddy,
under any circumstances."

"Ah! Except in my bad side of human
nature,"  murmured Biddy.

It was not so much a reproach, as an irresistible
thinking aloud. "Well! I thought I would
give up that point too. So, I walked a little
further with Biddy, looking silently at her
downcast eyes.

"I have not heard the particulars of my
sister's death, Biddy."

"They are very slight, poor thing. She had
been in one of her bad states—though they had
got better of late, rather than worse—for four
days, when she came out of it in the evening,
just at tea-time, and said quite plainly, 'Joe.'
As she had never said any word for a long
while, I ran and fetched in Mr. Gargery from
the forge. She made signs to me that she
wanted him to sit down close to her, and
wanted me to put her arms round his neck.
So I put them round his neck, and she laid her
hand down on his shoulder quite content and
satisfied. And so she presently said 'Joe'
again, and once ' Pardon,' and once 'Pip.' And
so she never lifted her head up any more, and
it was just an hour later when we laid it down
on her own bed, because we found she was
gone."

Biddy cried; the darkening garden, and the
lane, and the stars that were coming out, were
blurred in my own sight.

"Nothing was ever discovered, Biddy?"

"Nothing."

"Do you know what is become of Orlick?"

"I should think from the colour of his clothes
that he is working in the quarries."

"Of course you have seen him then?—Why
are you looking at that dark tree in the
lane?"

"I saw him there, on the night she died."

"That was not the last time either, Biddy?"

"No; I have seen him there, since we have
been walking here.—It is of no use," said Biddy,
laying her hand upon my arm as I was for
running out, "you know I would not deceive
you; he was not there a minute, and he is
gone."

It revived my utmost indignation to find that
she was still pursued by this fellow, and I felt
inveterate against him. I told her so, and told
her that I would spend any money or take any
pains to drive him out of that country. By
degrees she led me into more temperate talk,
and she told me how Joe loved me, and how
Joe never complained of anything—she didn't
say, of me; she had no need; I knew what she
meant—but ever did his duty in his way of life,
with a strong hand, a quiet tongue, and a gentle
heart.

"Indeed, it would be hard to say too much
for him," said I; "and Biddy, we must often
speak of these things, for of course I shall be
often down here now. I am not going to leave
poor Joe alone."

Biddy said never a single word.

"Biddy, don't you hear me?"

"Yes, Mr. Pip."

"Not to mention your calling me Mr. Pip—which
appears to me to be in bad taste, Biddy—what
do you mean?"

"What do I mean?" asked Biddy, timidly.

"Biddy," said I, in a virtuously self-asserting
manner, "I must request to know what you
mean by this?"

"By this?" said Biddy.

"Now, don't echo," I retorted. "You used
not to echo, Biddy."