All she knew of her father’s offices was that they belonged to Dombey
and Son, and that that was a great power belonging to the City. So
she could only ask the way to Dombey and Son’s in the City; and as
she generally made inquiry of children--being afraid to ask grown
people--she got very little satisfaction indeed. But by dint of asking
her way to the City after a while, and dropping the rest of her inquiry
for the present, she really did advance, by slow degrees, toward the
heart of that great region which is governed by the terrible Lord Mayor.
Tired of walking, repulsed and pushed about, stunned by the noise and
confusion, anxious for her brother and the nurses, terrified by what
she had undergone, and the prospect of encountering her angry father
in such an altered state; perplexed and frightened alike by what had
passed, and what was passing, and what was yet before her, Florence
went upon her weary way with tearful eyes, and once or twice could not
help stopping to ease her bursting heart by crying bitterly. But few
people noticed her at those times, in the garb she wore; or if they
did, believed that she was tutored to excite compassion, and passed on.
Florence, too, called to her aid all the firmness and self-reliance of
a character that her sad experience had prematurely formed and tried;
and keeping the end she had in view steadily before her, steadily
pursued it.
It was full two hours later in the afternoon than when she had started
on this strange adventure, when, escaping from the clash and clangor
of a narrow street full of carts and wagons, she peeped into a kind of
wharf or landing-place upon the riverside, where there were a great
many packages, casks, and boxes strewn about; a large pair of wooden
scales; and a little wooden house on wheels, outside of which, looking
at the neighboring masts and boats, a stout man stood whistling, with
his pen behind his ear, and his hands in his pockets, as if his day’s
work were nearly done.
“Now then!” said this man, happening to turn round. “We haven’t got
anything for you, little girl. Be off!”
“If you please, is this the City?” asked the trembling daughter of the
Dombeys.
“Ah! it’s the City. You know that well enough, I dare say. Be off! We
haven’t got anything for you.”
“I don’t want anything, thank you,” was the timid answer. “Except to
know the way to Dombey and Son’s.”
The man who had been strolling carelessly toward her, seemed surprised
by this reply, and looking attentively in her face, rejoined:
“Why, what can _you_ want with Dombey and Son’s?”
“To know the way there, if you please.”
The man looked at her yet more curiously, and rubbed the back of his
head so hard in his wonderment that he knocked his own hat off.
“Joe!” he called to another man--a laborer--as he picked it up and put
it on again.
“Joe it is!” said Joe.
“Where’s that young spark of Dombey’s who’s been watching the shipment
of them goods?”
“Just gone, by the t’other gate,” said Joe.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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