Free The Mystery of Edwin Drood by Charles Dickens, Matthew Pearl

Neville and Helena Landless, on the subject of their
defective education, and they give in to the plan proposed; as I should have
taken good care they did, whether they liked it or not.”
     
  “And it is another most extraordinary
thing,” remarked the Minor Canon in the same tone as before, “that these
philanthropists are so given to seizing their fellow-creatures by the scruff of
the neck, and (as one may say) bumping them into the paths of peace. —I beg
your pardon, Ma dear, for interrupting.”
     
  “Therefore, dear Madam, you will please
prepare your son, the Rev. Mr. Septimus, to expect Neville as an inmate to be
read with, on Monday next. On the same day Helena will accompany him to
Cloisterham, to take up her quarters at the Nuns' House, the establishment
recommended by yourself and son jointly. Please likewise to prepare for her
reception and tuition there. The terms in both cases are understood to be
exactly as stated to me in writing by yourself, when I opened a correspondence
with you on this subject, after the honour of being introduced to you at your
sister's house in town here. With compliments to the Rev. Mr. Septimus, I am,
Dear Madam, Your affectionate brother (In Philanthropy), LUKE HONEYTHUNDER.”
     
  “Well, Ma,” said Septimus, after a
little more rubbing of his ear, “we must try it. There can be no doubt that we
have room for an inmate, and that I have time to bestow upon him, and
inclination too. I must confess to feeling rather glad that he is not Mr.
Honeythunder himself. Though that seems wretchedly prejudiced—does it not?—for
I never saw him. Is he a large man, Ma?”
     
  “I should call him a large man, my
dear,” the old lady replied after some hesitation, “but that his voice is so
much larger.”
     
  “Than himself?”
     
  “Than anybody.”
     
  “Hah!” said Septimus. And finished his
breakfast as if the flavour of the Superior Family Souchong, and also of the
ham and toast and eggs, were a little on the wane.
     
  Mrs. Crisparkle's sister, another piece
of Dresden china, and matching her so neatly that they would have made a
delightful pair of ornaments for the two ends of any capacious old-fashioned
chimneypiece, and by right should never have been seen apart, was the childless
wife of a clergyman holding Corporation preferment in London City. Mr.
Honeythunder in his public character of Professor of Philanthropy had come to
know Mrs. Crisparkle during the last re-matching of the china ornaments (in
other words during her last annual visit to her sister), after a public
occasion of a philanthropic nature, when certain devoted orphans of tender
years had been glutted with plum buns, and plump bumptiousness. These were all
the antecedents known in Minor Canon Corner of the coming pupils.
     
  “I am sure you will agree with me, Ma,”
said Mr. Crisparkle, after thinking the matter over, “that the first thing to
be done, is, to put these young people as much at their ease as possible. There
is nothing disinterested in the notion, because we cannot be at our ease with
them unless they are at their ease with us. Now, Jasper's nephew is down here
at present; and like takes to like, and youth takes to youth. He is a cordial
young fellow, and we will have him to meet the brother and sister at dinner.
That's three. We can't think of asking him, without asking Jasper. That's four.
Add Miss Twinkleton and the fairy bride that is to be, and that's six. Add our
two selves, and that's eight. Would eight at a friendly dinner at all put you
out, Ma?”
     
  “Nine would, Sept,” returned the old
lady, visibly nervous.
     
  “My dear Ma, I particularise eight.”
     
  “The exact size of the table and the
room, my dear.”
     
  So it was settled that way: and when Mr.
Crisparkle called with his mother upon Miss Twinkleton, to arrange for the
reception of Miss Helena Landless at the Nuns' House, the two other invitations
having