The elder Mr. Turveydrop was in bed, I found, and Caddy was milling his chocolate, which a melancholy little boy who was an apprentice--it seemed such a curious thing to be apprenticed to the trade of dancing--was waiting to carry upstairs. Her father-in-law was extremely kind and considerate, Caddy told me, and they lived most happily together. (When she spoke of their living together, she meant that the old gentleman had all the good things and all the good lodging, while she and her husband had what they could get, and were poked into two corner rooms over the Mews.)
"And how is your mama, Caddy?" said I.
"Why, I hear of her, Esther," replied Caddy, "through Pa, but I see very little of her. We are good friends, I am glad to say, but Ma thinks there is something absurd in my having married a dancing-master, and she is rather afraid of its extending to her."
It struck me that if Mrs. Jellyby had discharged her own natural duties and obligations before she swept the horizon with a telescope in search of others, she would have taken the best precautions against becoming absurd, but I need scarcely observe that I kept this to myself.
"And your papa, Caddy?"
"He comes here every evening," returned Caddy, "and is so fond of sitting in the corner there that it's a treat to see him."

The elder Mr. Turveydrop was in bed, I found, and Caddy was mixing his chocolate, which a melancholy little apprentice-boy - it seemed curious to be apprenticed to the trade of dancing - was waiting to carry upstairs. Her father-in-law was extremely kind and considerate, Caddy told me, and they lived most happily together. (In other words, the old gentleman had all the good things and the good lodging, while she and her husband were poked into two corner rooms over the Mews.)
"And how is your mama, Caddy?" said I.
"Why, I hear of her, Esther," replied Caddy, "through Pa, but I see very little of her. We are good friends, I am glad to say, but Ma thinks there is something absurd in my having married a dancing-master, and she is afraid of its extending to her."
It struck me that if Mrs. Jellyby had discharged her own natural duties before she swept the horizon with a telescope in search of others, she would have taken the best precautions against becoming absurd; but I kept this to myself.
"And your papa, Caddy?"
"He comes here every evening, and is so fond of sitting in the corner there that it's a treat to see him."
