What Mrs. Jellyby would have done if she had lived in Africa, we do not know. But in London she didn’t find much to interest her: everything was too near. So the little Jellybys were left to grow up as best they could. There was no one whose business it was to see that they were properly fed or clothed or taught how to behave. Mrs. Jellyby couldn’t look after them, because she was too busy making plans for the Africans. And Mr. Jellyby couldn’t do it, for he had to listen to Mrs. Jellyby and do errands for her. So nobody did it, and the little Jellybys got on as best they could, which was not very well. In _Bleak House_, Dickens makes Miss Summerson tell of her visit to Mrs. Jellyby. * * * * * We were to pass the night, Mr. Kenge told us, at Mrs. Jellyby’s; and then he turned to me, and said that he took it for granted that I knew who Mrs. Jellyby was. “I really don’t, sir,” I returned. “Indeed! Mrs. Jellyby is a lady of great strength of character. She devotes herself entirely to the public.” “And Mr. Jellyby, sir?” “Ah! Mr. Jellyby,” said Mr. Kenge, “I do not know that I can describe Mr. Jellyby better than by saying he is the husband of Mrs. Jellyby.” We arrived at our destination and found a crowd of people, mostly children, about the house at which we stopped, which had a tarnished brass plate on the door, with the inscription, JELLYBY. “Don’t be frightened!” said Mr. Guppy, looking in at the coach-window. “One of the young Jellybys been and got his head through the area railings!” “Oh, poor child,” said I, “let me out, if you please!” “Pray be careful of yourself, miss. The young Jellybys are always up to something,” said Mr. Guppy. I made my way to the poor child, who was one of the dirtiest little unfortunates I ever saw, and found him very hot and frightened, and crying loudly, fixed by the neck between two iron railings, while a milkman and a beadle, with the kindest intentions possible, were endeavoring to drag him back by the legs, under a general impression that his skull was compressible by those means. As I found (after pacifying him) that he was a little boy, with a naturally large head, I thought that, perhaps, where his head could go, his body could follow, and mentioned that the best mode of extrication might be to push him forward. This was so favorably received by the milkman and beadle, that he would immediately have been pushed into the area, if I had not held his pinafore, while Richard and Mr. Guppy ran down through the kitchen, to catch him when he should be released. At last he was happily got down without any accident, and then he began to beat Mr. Guppy with a hoop-stick in quite a frantic manner.