Identifier: bleakhouse00dick (find matches)
Title: Bleak house
Year: 1895 (1890s)
Authors: Dickens, Charles, 1812-1870 Dickens, Charles, 1837-1896, ed Browne, Hablot Knight, 1815-1882, illus
Subjects: Young women Guardian and ward Illegitimate children Inheritance and succession
Publisher: New York, London, Macmillan and co.
Contributing Library: The Library of Congress
Digitizing Sponsor: Sloan Foundation

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t withyou; because I like the poor thing for her own sake, and I believeshe likes me. If you could see young Mr. Turveydrop, I am sureyou would think well of him — at least, I am sure you couldntpossibly think any ill of him. I am going there now, for my les-son. I couldnt ask you to go with me. Miss Summerson; but ifyou would, said Caddy, who had said all this, earnestly and trem-blingly, I should be very glad — very glad. It happened that we had arranged with my Guardian to go toMiss Flites that day. We had told him of our former visit, andour account had interested him; but something had always hap-pened to prevent our going there again. As I trusted that I mighthave sufficient influence with Miss Jellyby to prevent her takingany very rash step, if I fully accepted the confidence she was sowilling to place in me, poor girl, I proposed that she and I andPeepy should go to the Academy, and afterwards meet my Guardianand Ada at Miss Flites — whose name I now learnt for the first
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BLEAK HOUSE. 177 time. This was on condition that Miss Jelly by and Peepy shouldcome back mth us to dinner. The last article of the agreementbeing joyfully acceded to by both, we smartened Peepy up a little,with the assistance of a few pins, some soaj) and water, and a hair-brush ; and went out: bending our steps towards Newman Street,which was very near. I found the academy established in a sufficiently dingy house atthe corner of an archway, with busts in all the staircase windows.In the same house there were also established, as I gathered fromthe plates on the door, a drawing-master, a coal-merchant (therewas, certainly, no room for his coals), and a lithographic artist.On the plate which, in size and situation, took precedence of allthe rest, I read, Mr. Turveydrop. The door was open, and thehall was blocked up by a grand piano, a harp, and several othermusical instraments in cases, all in progress of removal, and alllooking rakish in the daylight. Miss Jellyby informed me thatth

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