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by a cruel father for remaining true to her own true love； and refusing
to marry the suitor he chose for her。 The legend related how that the
young lady used to be seen up at her window behind the bars； murmuring a
love…lorn song of which the burden was； 'Bleeding Heart； Bleeding Heart；
bleeding away；' until she died。 It was objected by the murderous party
that this Refrain was notoriously the invention of a tambour…worker； a
spinster and romantic； still lodging in the Yard。 But； forasmuch as all
favourite legends must be associated with the affections； and as many
more people fall in love than mit murder……which it may be hoped；
howsoever bad we are； will continue until the end of the world to be
the dispensation under which we shall live……the Bleeding Heart； Bleeding
Heart； bleeding away story； carried the day by a great majority。 Neither
party would listen to the antiquaries who delivered learned lectures in
the neighbourhood； showing the Bleeding Heart to have been the heraldic
cognisance of the old family to whom the property had once belonged。
And； considering that the hour…glass they turned from year to year was
filled with the earthiest and coarsest sand； the Bleeding Heart Yarders
had reason enough for objecting to be despoiled of the one little golden
grain of poetry that sparkled in it。
Down in to the Yard； by way of the steps； came Daniel Doyce； Mr Meagles；
and Clennam。 Passing along the Yard； and between the open doors on
either hand； all abundantly garnished with light children nursing heavy
ones； they arrived at its opposite boundary； the gateway。 Here Arthur
Clennam stopped to look about him for the domicile of Plornish；
plasterer； whose name； according to the custom of Londoners； Daniel
Doyce had never seen or heard of to that hour。
It was plain enough； nevertheless； as Little Dorrit had said； over a
lime…splashed gateway in the corner； within which Plornish kept a ladder
and a barrel or two。 The last house in Bleeding Heart Yard which she
had described as his place of habitation； was a large house； let off to
various tenants； but Plornish ingeniously hinted that he lived in the
parlour； by means of a painted hand under his name； the forefinger of
which hand （on which the artist had depicted a ring and a most elaborate
nail of the genteelest form） referred all inquirers to that apartment。
Parting from his panions； after arranging another meeting with
Mr Meagles； Clennam went alone into the entry； and knocked with his
knuckles at the parlour…door。 It was opened presently by a woman with
a child in her arms； whose unoccupied hand was hastily rearranging the
upper part of her dress。 This was Mrs Plornish； and this maternal
action was the action of Mrs Plornish during a large part of her waking
existence。
Was Mr Plornish at home？ 'Well； sir；' said Mrs Plornish； a civil woman；
'not to deceive you； he's gone to look for a job。'
'Not to deceive you' was a method of speech with Mrs Plornish。 She would
deceive you； under any circumstances； as little as might be； but she had
a trick of answering in this provisional form。
'Do you think he will be back soon； if I wait for him？'
'I have been expecting him；' said Mrs Plornish； 'this half an hour； at
any minute of time。 Walk in； sir。' Arthur entered the rather dark and
close parlour （though it was lofty too）； and sat down in the chair she
placed for him。
'Not to deceive you； sir； I notice it；' said Mrs Plornish； 'and I take
it kind of you。'
He was at a loss to understand what she meant； and by expressing as much
in his looks； elicited her explanation。
'It ain't many that es into a poor place； that deems it worth their
while to move their hats；' said Mrs Plornish。 'But people think more of
it than people think。'
Clennam returned； with an unfortable feeling in so very slight a
courtesy being unusual； Was that all！ And stooping down to pinch the
cheek of another young child who was sitting on the floor； staring at
him； asked Mrs Plornish how old that fine boy was？
'Four year just turned； sir；' said Mrs Plornish。 'He IS a fine little
fellow； ain't he； sir？ But this one is rather sickly。' She tenderly
hushed the baby in her arms； as she said it。 'You wouldn't mind my
asking if it happened to be a job as you was e about； sir； would
you？' asked Mrs Plornish wistfully。
She asked it so anxiously； that if he had been in possession of any
kind of tenement； he would have had it plastered a foot deep rather
than answer No。 But he was obliged to answer No； and he saw a shade of
disappointment on her face； as she checked a sigh； and looked at the
low fire。 Then he saw； also； that Mrs Plornish was a young woman； made
somewhat slatternly in herself and her belongings by poverty； and so
dragged at by poverty and the children together； that their united
forces had already dragged her face into wrinkles。
'All such things as jobs；' said Mrs Plornish； 'seems to me to have gone
underground； they do indeed。' （Herein Mrs Plornish limited her remark to
the plastering trade； and spoke without reference to the Circumlocution
Office and the Barnacle Family。）
'Is it so difficult to get work？' asked Arthur Clennam。
'Plornish finds it so；' she returned。 'He is quite unfortunate。 Really
he is。' Really he was。 He was one of those many wayfarers on the road
of life； who seem to be afflicted with supernatural corns； rendering it
impossible for them to keep up even with their lame petitors。
A willing； working； soft hearted； not hard…headed fellow； Plornish took
his fortune as smoothly as could be expected； but it was a rough one。
It so rarely happened that anybody seemed to want him； it was such an
exceptional case when his poisty
mind could not make out how it happened。 He took it as it came；
therefore； he tumbled into all kinds of difficulties； and tumbled out of
them； and； by tumbling through life； got himself considerably bruised。
'It's not for want of looking after jobs； I am sure；' said Mrs Plornish；
lifting up her eyebrows； and searching for a solution of the problem
between the bars of the grate； 'nor yet for want of working at them when
they are to be got。 No one ever heard my husband plain of work。'
Somehow or other； this was the general misfortune of Bleeding Heart
Yard。 From time to time there were public plaints； pathetically
going about； of labour being scarce……which certain people seemed to take
extraordinarily ill； as though they had an absolute right to it on their
own terms……but Bleeding Heart Yard； though as willing a Yard as any in
Britain； was never the better for the demand。 That high old family； the
Barnacles； had long been too busy with their great principle to look
into the matter； and indeed the matter had nothing to do with their
watchfulness in out…generalling all other high old families except the
Stiltstalkings。
While Mrs Plornish spoke in these words of her absent lord； her lord
returned。 A smooth…cheeked； fresh…coloured； sandy…whiskered man of
thirty。 Long in the legs； yielding at the knees； foolish in the face；
flannel…jacketed； lime…whitened。
'This is Plornish； sir。'
'I came；' said Clennam； rising； 'to beg the favour of a little
conversation with you on the subject of the Dorrit family。'
Plornish became suspicious。 Seemed to scent a creditor。 Said； 'Ah； yes。
Well。 He didn't know what satisfaction he could give any gentleman；
respecting that family。 What might it be about； now？'
'I know you better；' said Clennam； smiling； 'than you suppose。'
Plornish observed； not Smiling in return； And yet he hadn't the pleasure
of being acquainted with the gentleman； neither。
'No；' said Arthur； 'I know your kind offices at second hand； but on the
best authority； through Little Dorrit。……I mean；' he explained； 'Miss
Dorrit。'
'Mr Clennam； is it？ Oh！ I've heard of you； Sir。'
'And I of you；' said Arthur。
'Please to sit down again； Sir； and consider yourself wele。……Why；
yes；' said Plornish； taking a chair； and lifting the elder child upon
his knee； that he might have the moral support of speaking to a stranger
over his head； 'I have been on the wrong side of the Lock myself； and
in that way we e to know Miss Dorrit。 Me and my