the natives – and the happy settlement, on the banks of the African rivers, of our superabundant home population. Mr. Jarndyce, who is desirous to aid any work that is considered likely to be a good work, and who is much sought after by philanthropists, has, I believe, a very high opinion of Mrs. Jellyby.'
Mr. Kenge, adjusting his cravat, then looked at us.
'And Mr. Jellyby, sir?' suggested Richard.
'Ah! Mr. Jellyby,' said Mr. Kenge, 'is – a – I don't know that I can describe him to you better than by saying that he is the husband of Mrs. Jellyby.'
'A nonentity, sir?' said Richard, with a droll look.
'I don't say that,' returned Mr. Kenge, gravely. 'I can't say that, indeed, for I know nothing whatever of Mr. Jellyby. I never, to my knowledge, had the pleasure of seeing Mr. Jellyby. He may be a very superior man; but he is, so to speak, merged – Merged – in the more shining qualities of his wife.' Mr. Kenge proceeded to tell us that as the road to Bleak House would have been very long, dark, and tedious, on such an evening, and as we had been travelling already, Mr. Jarndyce had himself proposed this arrangement. A carriage would be at Mrs. Jellyby's to convey us out of town, early in the forenoon of to-morrow.
He then rang a little bell, and the young gentleman came in. Addressing him by the name of Guppy, Mr. Kenge inquired whether Miss Summerson's boxes and the rest of the baggage had been 'sent round.' Mr. Guppy said yes, they had been sent round, and a coach was waiting to take us round too, as soon as we pleased.
'Then it only remains,' said Mr. Kenge, shaking hands with us, 'for me to express my lively satisfaction in (good day, Miss Glare!) the arrangement this day concluded, and my (good-bye to you, Miss Summerson I) lively hope that it will conduce to the happiness, the (glad to have had the honour of making your acquaintance, Mr. Carstone!) welfare, the advantage in all points of view, of all concerned! Guppy, see the party safely there.'
'Where is "there," Mr. Guppy?' said Richard, as we went down-stairs.
'No distance,' said Mr. Guppy; 'round in Thavies Inn, you know.'
'I can't say I know where it is, for I come from Winchester, and am strange in London.'
'Only round the corner,' said Mr. Guppy. 'We just twist up Chancery Lane, and cut along Holborn, and there we are in four minutes' time, as near as a toucher. This is about a London particular