Mrs. Jellyby, whose face reflected none of the uneasiness which we could not help showing in our own faces as the dear child's head recorded its passage with a bump on every stair--Richard afterwards said he counted seven, besides one for the landing--received us with perfect equanimity. She was a pretty, very diminutive, plump woman of from forty to fifty, with handsome eyes, though they had a curious habit of seeming to look a long way off. As if--I am quoting Richard again--they could see nothing nearer than Africa!

Mrs. Jellyby, whose face reflected none of our uneasiness at hearing the dear child's head bump down every stair, received us with perfect equanimity. She was a pretty, plump woman of from forty to fifty, with handsome eyes, though they had a curious habit of seeming to look a long way off.
