"Let me see, Caddy," said I, pretending to consider. "Really, I think I could do a greater thing than that if the need were pressing. I am at your service and the darling child's, my dear, whenever you like."
Caddy was quite transported by this reply of mine, being, I believe, as susceptible to the least kindness or encouragement as any tender heart that ever beat in this world; and after another turn or two round the garden, during which she put on an entirely new pair of gloves and made herself as resplendent as possible that she might do no avoidable discredit to the Master of Deportment, we went to Newman Street direct.
Prince was teaching, of course. We found him engaged with a not very hopeful pupil--a stubborn little girl with a sulky forehead, a deep voice, and an inanimate, dissatisfied mama--whose case was certainly not rendered more hopeful by the confusion into which we threw her preceptor. The lesson at last came to an end, after proceeding as discordantly as possible; and when the little girl had changed her shoes and had had her white muslin extinguished in shawls, she was taken away. After a few words of preparation, we then went in search of Mr. Turveydrop, whom we found, grouped with his hat and gloves, as a model of deportment, on the sofa in his private apartment--the only comfortable room in the house. He appeared to have dressed at his leisure in the intervals of a light collation, and his dressing-case, brushes, and so forth, all of quite an elegant kind, lay about.
"Father, Miss Summerson; Miss Jellyby."

"Let me see, Caddy," said I, pretending to consider. "Really, I am at your service and the darling child's, my dear, whenever you like."
Caddy was quite transported by this reply; and so we went to Newman Street.
Prince was teaching a stubborn little girl with a sulky forehead and a dissatisfied mama. The lesson at last came to an end; and when the little girl had changed her shoes and had been wrapped in shawls, she was taken away. We then went in search of Mr. Turveydrop, whom we found, a model of deportment, on the sofa in his private apartment - the only comfortable room in the house. He appeared to have dressed at his leisure in the intervals of a light lunch, and his elegant dressing-case, brushes, and so forth, lay about.
"Father, Miss Summerson; Miss Jellyby."
