Page 145 - bleak-house

the drone to be willing to be on good terms with the bee,
which, so far as he knew, the easy fellow always was, if the
consequential creature would only let him, and not be so
conceited about his honey!
He pursued this fancy with the lightest foot over a va-
riety of ground and made us all merry, though again he
seemed to have as serious a meaning in what he said as he
was capable of having. I left them still listening to him when
I withdrew to attend to my new duties. They had occupied
me for some time, and I was passing through the passages
on my return with my basket of keys on my arm when Mr.
Jarndyce called me into a small room next his bed-chamber,
which I found to be in part a little library of books and pa-
pers and in part quite a little museum of his boots and shoes
and hatboxes.
‘Sit down, my dear,’ said Mr. Jarndyce. ‘This, you must
know, is the growlery. When I am out of humour, I come
and growl here.’
‘You must be here very seldom, sir,’ said I.
‘Oh, you don’t know me!’ he returned. ‘When I am de-
ceived or disappointed in—the wind, and it’s easterly, I
take refuge here. The growlery is the best-used room in the
house. You are not aware of half my humours yet. My dear,
how you are trembling!’
I could not help it; I tried very hard, but being alone with
that benevolent presence, and meeting his kind eyes, and
feeling so happy and so honoured there, and my heart so
full—
I kissed his hand. I don’t know what I said, or even that

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