But there were always the Saturdays when Florence came at noon to fetch him, and never would she, in any weather, stay away. Florence brought the school-books he was studying, and every Saturday night would patiently assist him through so much as they could anticipate together of his next week's work. And this saved him, possibly, from sinking underneath the burden which the fair Cornelia Blimber piled upon his back. It was not that Miss Blimber meant to be too hard upon him, or that Dr. Blimber meant to bear too heavily on the young gentlemen in general. But when Dr. Blimber said that Paul made great progress, and was naturally clever, Mr. Dombey was more bent than ever on his being forced and crammed. Such spirits as he had at the outset Paul soon lost, of course. But he retained all that was strange, and odd, and thoughtful in his character; and Mrs. Blimber thought him "odd," and whispered that he was "old fashioned," and that was all. Between little Paul Dombey the youngest, and Mr. Toots, the oldest of Dr. Blimber's young gentlemen, a strong attachment existed. Toots had "gone through" so much, that he had left off growing, and was free to pursue his own course of study, which was chiefly to write long letters to himself from persons of distinction, addressed "P. Toots, Esquire, Brighton," to preserve them in his desk with great care. "How are you?" Toots would say to Paul, fifty times a day. "Quite well, sir, thank you," Paul would answer. "Shake hands," would be Toot's next advance. Which Paul, of course, would immediately do. "I say!" cried Toots one evening, finding Paul looking out of the window. "I say, what do you think about?" "Oh, I think about a great many things," replied Paul. "Do you, though?" said Toots, appearing to consider that fact in itself surprising. "If you had to die," said Paul, "don't you think you would rather die on a moonlight night, when the sky is quite clear, and the wind blowing, as it did last night?" Mr. Toots, looking doubtfully at Paul, said he didn't know about that. "It was a beautiful night," said Paul. "There was a boat over there, in the full light of the moon, a boat with a sail." Mr. Toots, feeling called upon to say something, suggested "Smugglers," and then added, "or Preventive." "A boat with a sail," repeated Paul. "It went away into the distance, and what do you think it seemed to do as it moved with the waves?" "Pitch!" said Mr. Toots. "It seemed to beckon," said the child; "to beckon me to come." Certainly people found him an "old-fashioned" child. At the end of the term Dr. and Mrs. Blimber gave an early party to their pupils and their parents and guardians, and it was a day or two before this event when Paul was taken ill. This illness released him from his books, and made him think the more of Florence.