Alas for Florence! To that father,--the pompous head of the great firm
of Dombey and Son--girls never showed a sufficient justification for
their existence, and this one of his own was an object of supreme
indifference to him; while upon the tiny boy, his heir and future
partner in the firm, he lavished all his interest, centred all his hopes
and affection.
After her mother's death, Florence was taken away by an aunt; and a
nurse, named Polly Richards, was secured for baby Paul. A few weeks
later, as Polly was sitting in her own room with her young charge, the
door was quietly opened, and a dark-eyed little girl looked in.
"It's Miss Florence, come home from her aunt's, no doubt," thought
Richards, who had never seen the child before. "Hope I see you
well, miss."
"Is that my brother?" asked the child, pointing to the baby.
"Yes, my pretty," answered Richards, "come and kiss him."
But the child, instead of advancing, looked her earnestly in the face,
and said:
"What have you done with my mamma?"
"Lord bless the little creetur!" cried Richards. "What a sad question!
_I_ done? Nothing, miss."
"What have they done with my mamma?" cried the child.
"I never saw such a melting thing in all my life!" said Richards. "Come
nearer here; come, my dear miss! Don't be afraid of me."
"I'm not afraid of you," said the child, drawing nearer, "but I want to
know what they have done with my mamma.
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