′What does your husband say to your being called Richards?′
As the husband did nothing but chuckle and grin, and continually draw his right hand across his mouth, moistening the palm, Mrs Toodle, after nudging him twice or thrice in vain, dropped a curtsey and replied ′that perhaps if she was to be called out of her name, it would be considered in the wages.′
′Oh, of course,′ said Mr Dombey. ′I desire to make it a question of wages, altogether. Now, Richards, if you nurse my bereaved child, I wish you to remember this always. You will receive a liberal stipend in return for the discharge of certain duties, in the performance of which, I wish you to see as little of your family as possible. When those duties cease to be required and rendered, and the stipend ceases to be paid, there is an end of all relations between us. Do you understand me?′
Mrs Toodle seemed doubtful about it; and as to Toodle himself, he had evidently no doubt whatever, that he was all abroad.
′You have children of your own,′ said Mr Dombey. ′It is not at all in this bargain that you need become attached to my child, or that my child need become attached to you. I don′t expect or desire anything of the kind. Quite the reverse. When you go away from here, you will have concluded what is a mere matter of bargain and sale, hiring and letting: and will stay away. The child will cease to remember you; and you will cease, if you please, to remember the child.′
Mrs Toodle, with a little more colour in her cheeks than she had had before, said ′she hoped she knew her place.′
′I hope you do, Richards,′ said Mr Dombey. ′I have no doubt you know it very well. Indeed it is so plain and obvious that it could hardly be otherwise. Louisa, my dear, arrange with Richards about money, and let her have it when and how she pleases. Mr what′s-your name, a word with you, if you please!′
Thus arrested on the threshold as he was following his wife out of the room, Toodle returned and confronted Mr Dombey alone. He was a strong, loose, round-shouldered, shuffling, shaggy fellow, on whom his clothes sat negligently: with a good deal of hair and whisker, deepened in its natural tint, perhaps by smoke and coal-dust: hard knotty hands: and a square forehead, as coarse in grain as the bark of an oak. A thorough contrast in all respects, to Mr Dombey, who was one of those close-shaved close-cut moneyed gentlemen who are glossy and crisp like new bank-notes, and who seem to be artificially braced and tightened as by the stimulating action of golden showerbaths.
′You have a son, I believe?′ said Mr Dombey.
′Four on ′em, Sir. Four hims and a her. All alive!′
′Why, it′s as much as you can afford to keep them!′ said Mr Dombey.
′I couldn′t hardly afford but one thing in the world less, Sir.′
′What is that?′
′To lose ′em, Sir.′
′Can you read?′ asked Mr Dombey.
′Why, not partick′ler, Sir.′
′Write?′
′With chalk, Sir?′
′With anything?′
′I could make shift to chalk a little bit, I think, if I was put to it,′ said Toodle after some reflection.
′And yet,′ said Mr Dombey, ′you are two or three and thirty, I suppose?′
′Thereabouts, I suppose, Sir,′ answered Toodle, after more reflection
′Then why don′t you learn?′ asked Mr Dombey.
′So I′m a going to, Sir. One of my little boys is a going to learn me, when he′s old enough, and been to school himself.
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