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'Bleeding Heart Yard？' said Pancks； with a puff and a snort。 'It's a
troublesome property。 Don't pay you badly； but rents are very hard to
get there。 You have more trouble with that one place than with all the
places belonging to you。'
Just as the big ship in tow gets the credit； with most spectators； of
being the powerful object； so the Patriarch usually seemed to have said
himself whatever Pancks said for him。
'Indeed？' returned Clennam； upon whom this impression was so efficiently
made by a mere gleam of the polished head that he spoke the ship instead
of the Tug。 'The people are so poor there？'
'You can't say； you know；' snorted Pancks； taking one of his dirty hands
out of his rusty iron…grey pockets to bite his nails； if he could find
any； and turning his beads of eyes upon his employer； 'whether they're
poor or not。 They say they are； but they all say that。 When a man says
he's rich； you're generally sure he isn't。 Besides； if they ARE poor；
you can't help it。 You'd be poor yourself if you didn't get your rents。'
'True enough；' said Arthur。
'You're not going to keep open house for all the poor of London；'
pursued Pancks。 'You're not going to lodge 'em for nothing。 You're not
going to open your gates wide and let 'em e free。 Not if you know it；
you ain't。'
Mr Casby shook his head； in Placid and benignant generality。
'If a man takes a room of you at half…a…crown a week； and when the week
es round hasn't got the half…crown； you say to that man； Why have you
got the room； then？ If you haven't got the one thing； why have you got
the other？ What have you been and done with your money？ What do you mean
by it？ What are you up to？ That's what YOU say to a man of that sort；
and if you didn't say it； more shame for you！' Mr Pancks here made a
singular and startling noise； produced by a strong blowing effort in the
region of the nose； unattended by any result but that acoustic one。
'You have some extent of such property about the east and north…east
here； I believe？' said Clennam； doubtful which of the two to address。
'Oh； pretty well；' said Pancks。 'You're not particular to east or
north…east； any point of the pass will do for you。 What you want is
a good investment and a quick return。 You take it where you can find it。
You ain't nice as to situation……not you。'
There was a fourth and most original figure in the Patriarchal tent； who
also appeared before dinner。 This was an amazing little old woman； with
a face like a staring wooden doll too cheap for expression； and a stiff
yellow wig perched unevenly on the top of her head； as if the child who
owned the doll had driven a tack through it anywhere； so that it only
got fastened on。 Another remarkable thing in this little old woman was；
that the same child seemed to have damaged her face in two or three
places with some blunt instrument in the nature of a spoon； her
countenance； and particularly the tip of her nose； presenting the
phenomena of several dints； generally answering to the bowl of that
article。 A further remarkable thing in this little old woman was； that
she had no name but Mr F。's Aunt。
She broke upon the visitor's view under the following circumstances：
Flora said when the first dish was being put on the table； perhaps Mr
Clennam might not have heard that Mr F。 had left her a legacy？ Clennam
in return implied his hope that Mr F。 had endowed the wife whom he
adored； with the greater part of his worldly substance； if not with all。
Flora said； oh yes； she didn't mean that； Mr F。 had made a beautiful
will； but he had left her as a separate legacy； his Aunt。 She then
went out of the room to fetch the legacy； and； on her return； rather
triumphantly presented 'Mr F。's Aunt。'
The major characteristics discoverable by the stranger in Mr F。's Aunt；
were extreme severity and grim taciturnity； sometimes interrupted by
a propensity to offer remarks in a deep warning voice； which； being
totally uncalled for by anything said by anybody； and traceable to no
association of ideas； confounded and terrified the Mind。 Mr F。's Aunt
may have thrown in these observations on some system of her own； and it
may have been ingenious； or even subtle： but the key to it was wanted。
The neatly…served and well…cooked dinner （for everything about the
Patriarchal household promoted quiet digestion） began with some soup；
some fried soles； a butter…boat of shrimp sauce； and a dish of potatoes。
The conversation still turned on the receipt of rents。 Mr F。's Aunt；
after regarding the pany for ten minutes with a malevolent gaze；
delivered the following fearful remark：
'When we lived at Henley； Barnes's gander was stole by tinkers。' Mr
Pancks courageously nodded his head and said； 'All right； ma'am。' But
the effect of this mysterious munication upon Clennam was absolutely
to frighten him。 And another circumstance invested this old lady with
peculiar terrors。 Though she was always staring； she never acknowledged
that she saw any individual。
The polite and attentive stranger would desire； say； to consult her
inclinations on the subject of potatoes。 His expressive action would be
hopelessly lost upon her； and what could he do？ No man could say； 'Mr
F。's Aunt； will you permit me？' Every man retired from the spoon； as
Clennam did； cowed and baffled。
There was mutton； a steak； and an apple…pie……nothing in the remotest
way connected with ganders……and the dinner went on like a disenchanted
feast； as it truly was。 Once upon a time Clennam had sat at that table
taking no heed of anything but Flora； now the principal heed he took
of Flora was to observe； against his will； that she was very fond of
porter； that she bined a great deal of sherry with sentiment； and
that if she were a little overgrown； it was upon substantial grounds。
The last of the Patriarchs had always been a mighty eater； and he
disposed of an immense quantity of solid food with the benignity of a
good soul who was feeding some one else。 Mr Pancks； who was always in a
hurry； and who referred at intervals to a little dirty notebook which he
kept beside him （perhaps containing the names of the defaulters he meant
to look up by way of dessert）； took in his victuals much as if he were
coaling； with a good deal of noise； a good deal of dropping about； and a
puff and a snort occasionally； as if he were nearly ready to steam away。
All through dinner； Flora bined her present appetite for eating and
drinking with her past appetite for romantic love； in a way that made
Clennam afraid to lift his eyes from his plate； since he could not
look towards her without receiving some glance of mysterious meaning or
warning； as if they were engaged in a plot。 Mr F。's Aunt sat silently
defying him with an aspect of the greatest bitterness； until the removal
of the cloth and the appearance of the decanters； when she originated
another observation……struck into the conversation like a clock； without
consulting anybody。
Flora had just said； 'Mr Clennam； will you give me a glass of port for
Mr F。's Aunt？'
'The Monument near London Bridge；' that lady instantly proclaimed； 'was
put up arter the Great Fire of London； and the Great Fire of London was
not the fire in which your uncle George's workshops was burned down。'
Mr Pancks； with his former courage； said； 'Indeed； ma'am？ All right！'
But appearing to be incensed by imaginary contradiction； or other
ill…usage； Mr F。's Aunt； instead of relapsing into silence； made the
following additional proclamation：
'I hate a fool！'
She imparted to this sentiment； in itself almost Solomonic； so extremely
injurious and personal a character by levelling it straight at the
visitor's head； that it became necessary to lead Mr F。's Aunt from
the room。 This was quietly done by Flora； Mr F。's Aunt offering no
resistance； but inquiring on her way out； 'What he e there for；
then？' with implacable animosity。
When Flora returned； she explained that her legacy was a clever
old lady； but was sometimes a little singular； and 'took
dislikes'……peculiarities of which Flora seemed to be proud rather than
otherwise。 As Flora's good nature shone in the case； Clennam had no
fault to find with the old lady for