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1Mr. Pumblechook's premises in the High Street of the market town, were of a peppercorny and farinaceous character, as
2the premises of a cornchandler and seedsman should be. It appeared to me that he must be a very happy man indeed, to
3have so many little drawers in his shop; and I wondered when I peeped into one or two on the lower tiers, and saw the
4tied-up brown paper packets inside, whether the flower-seeds and bulbs ever wanted of a fine day to break out of those
5jails, and bloom. It was in the early morning after my arrival that I entertained this speculation. On the previous
6night, I had been sent straight to bed in an attic with a sloping roof, which was so low in the corner where the
7bedstead was, that I calculated the tiles as being within a foot of my eyebrows. In the same early morning, I discovered
8a singular affinity between seeds and corduroys. Mr. Pumblechook wore corduroys, and so did his shopman; and somehow,
9there was a general air and flavour about the corduroys, so much in the nature of seeds, and a general air and flavour
10about the seeds, so much in the nature of corduroys, that I hardly knew which was which. The same opportunity served me
11for noticing that Mr. Pumblechook appeared to conduct his business by looking across the street at the saddler, who
12appeared to transact his business by keeping his eye on the coachmaker, who appeared to get on in life by putting his
13hands in his pockets and contemplating the baker, who in his turn folded his arms and stared at the grocer, who stood at
14his door and yawned at the chemist. The watchmaker, always poring over a little desk with a magnifying-glass at his eye,
15and always inspected by a group of smock-frocks poring over him through the glass of his shop-window, seemed to be about
16the only person in the High Street whose trade engaged his attention. Mr. Pumblechook and I breakfasted at eight o'clock
17in the parlour behind the shop, while the shopman took his mug of tea and hunch of bread and butter on a sack of peas in
18the front premises. I considered Mr. Pumblechook wretched company. Besides being possessed by my sister's idea that a
19mortifying and penitential character ought to be imparted to my diet,--besides giving me as much crumb as possible in
20combination with as little butter, and putting such a quantity of warm water into my milk that it would have been more
21candid to have left the milk out altogether,--his conversation consisted of nothing but arithmetic. On my politely
22bidding him Good-morning, he said, pompously, "Seven times nine, boy?" And how should I be able to answer, dodged in
23that way, in a strange place, on an empty stomach! I was hungry, but before I had swallowed a morsel, he began a running
24sum that lasted all through the breakfast. "Seven?" "And four?" "And eight?" "And six?" "And two?" "And ten?" And so on.
25And after each figure was disposed of, it was as much as I could do to get a bite or a sup, before the next came; while
26he sat at his ease guessing nothing, and eating bacon and hot roll, in (if I may be allowed the expression) a gorging
27and gormandizing manner. For such reasons, I was very glad when ten o'clock came and we started for Miss Havisham's;
28though I was not at all at my ease regarding the manner in which I should acquit myself under that lady's roof. Within a
29quarter of an hour we came to Miss Havisham's house, which was of old brick, and dismal, and had a great many iron bars
30to it. Some of the windows had been walled up; of those that remained, all the lower were rustily barred. There was a
31courtyard in front, and that was barred; so we had to wait, after ringing the bell, until some one should come to open
32it. While we waited at the gate, I peeped in (even then Mr. Pumblechook said, "And fourteen?" but I pretended not to
33hear him), and saw that at the side of the house there was a large brewery. No brewing was going on in it, and none
34seemed to have gone on for a long long time. A window was raised, and a clear voice demanded "What name?" To which my
35conductor replied, "Pumblechook." The voice returned, "Quite right," and the window was shut again, and a young lady
36came across the court-yard, with keys in her hand. "This," said Mr. Pumblechook, "is Pip." "This is Pip, is it?"
37returned the young lady, who was very pretty and seemed very proud; "come in, Pip." Mr. Pumblechook was coming in also,
38when she stopped him with the gate. "Oh!" she said. "Did you wish to see Miss Havisham?" "If Miss Havisham wished to see
39me," returned Mr. Pumblechook, discomfited. "Ah!" said the girl; "but you see she don't." She said it so finally, and in
40such an undiscussible way, that Mr. Pumblechook, though in a condition of ruffled dignity, could not protest. But he
41eyed me severely,--as if I had done anything to him!--and departed with the words reproachfully delivered: "Boy! Let
42your behaviour here be a credit unto them which brought you up by hand!" I was not free from apprehension that he would
43come back to propound through the gate, "And sixteen?" But he didn't. My young conductress locked the gate, and we went
44across the courtyard. It was paved and clean, but grass was growing in every crevice. The brewery buildings had a little
45lane of communication with it, and the wooden gates of that lane stood open, and all the brewery beyond stood open, away
46to the high enclosing wall; and all was empty and disused. The cold wind seemed to blow colder there than outside the
47gate; and it made a shrill noise in howling in and out at the open sides of the brewery, like the noise of wind in the
48rigging of a ship at sea. She saw me looking at it, and she said, "You could drink without hurt all the strong beer
49that's brewed there now, boy." "I should think I could, miss," said I, in a shy way. "Better not try to brew beer there
50now, or it would turn out sour, boy; don't you think so?" "It looks like it, miss." "Not that anybody means to try," she
51added, "for that's all done with, and the place will stand as idle as it is till it falls. As to strong beer, there's
52enough of it in the cellars already, to drown the Manor House." [Illustration] "Is that the name of this house, miss?"
53"One of its names, boy." "It has more than one, then, miss?" "One more. Its other name was Satis; which is Greek, or
54Latin, or Hebrew, or all three--or all one to me--for enough." "Enough House," said I; "that's a curious name, miss."
55"Yes," she replied; "but it meant more than it said. It meant, when it was given, that whoever had this house could want
56nothing else. They must have been easily satisfied in those days, I should think. But don't loiter, boy." Though she
57called me "boy" so often, and with a carelessness that was far from complimentary, she was of about my own age. She
58seemed much older than I, of course, being a girl, and beautiful and self-possessed; and she was as scornful of me as if
59she had been one-and-twenty, and a queen. We went into the house by a side door, the great front entrance had two chains
60across it outside,--and the first thing I noticed was, that the passages were all dark, and that she had left a candle
61burning there. She took it up, and we went through more passages and up a staircase, and still it was all dark, and only
62the candle lighted us. At last we came to the door of a room, and she said, "Go in." I answered, more in shyness than
63politeness, "After you, miss." To this she returned: "Don't be ridiculous, boy; I am not going in." And scornfully
64walked away, and--what was worse--took the candle with her.
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