IX + 

SissyтАЩs Progress + 

Sissy Jupe had not an easy time of it, between Mr.┬аMтАЩChoakumchild and Mrs.┬аGradgrind, and was not without strong impulses, in the first months of her probation, to run away. It hailed facts all day long so very hard, and life in general was opened to her as such a closely ruled ciphering-book, that assuredly she would have run away, but for only one restraint. + 

It is lamentable to think of; but this restraint was the result of no arithmetical process, was self-imposed in defiance of all calculation, and went dead against any table of probabilities that any actuary would have drawn up from the premises. The girl believed that her father had not deserted her; she lived in the hope that he would come back, and in the faith that he would be made the happier by her remaining where she was. + 

The wretched ignorance with which Jupe clung to this consolation, rejecting the superior comfort of knowing, on a sound arithmetical basis, that her father was an unnatural vagabond, filled Mr.┬аGradgrind with pity. Yet, what was to be done? MтАЩChoakumchild reported that she had a very dense head for figures; that, once possessed with a general idea of the globe, she took the smallest conceivable interest in its exact measurements; that she was extremely slow in the acquisition of dates, unless some pitiful incident happened to be connected therewith; that she would burst into tears on being required (by the mental process) immediately to name the cost of two hundred and forty-seven muslin caps at fourteen-pence halfpenny; that she was as low down, in the school, as low could be; that after eight weeks of induction into the elements of Political Economy, she had only yesterday been set right by a prattler three feet high, for returning to the question, тАЬWhat is the first principle of this science?тАЭ the absurd answer, тАЬTo do unto others as I would that they should do unto me.тАЭ + 

Mr.┬аGradgrind observed, shaking his head, that all this was very bad; that it showed the necessity of infinite grinding at the mill of knowledge, as per system, schedule, blue book, report, and tabular statements A to Z; and that Jupe тАЬmust be kept to it.тАЭ So Jupe was kept to it, and became low-spirited, but no wiser. + 

тАЬIt would be a fine thing to be you, Miss Louisa!тАЭ she said, one night, when Louisa had endeavoured to make her perplexities for next day something clearer to her. + 

тАЬDo you think so?тАЭ + 

тАЬI should know so much, Miss Louisa. All that is difficult to me now, would be so easy then.тАЭ + 

тАЬYou might not be the better for it, Sissy.тАЭ + 

Sissy submitted, after a little hesitation, тАЬI should not be the worse, Miss Louisa.тАЭ To which Miss Louisa answered, тАЬI donтАЩt know that.тАЭ + 

There had been so little communication between these twoтБатАФboth because life at Stone Lodge went monotonously round like a piece of machinery which discouraged human interference, and because of the prohibition relative to SissyтАЩs past careerтБатАФthat they were still almost strangers. Sissy, with her dark eyes wonderingly directed to LouisaтАЩs face, was uncertain whether to say more or to remain silent. + 

тАЬYou are more useful to my mother, and more pleasant with her than I can ever be,тАЭ Louisa resumed. тАЬYou are pleasanter to yourself, than I am to myself.тАЭ + 

тАЬBut, if you please, Miss Louisa,тАЭ Sissy pleaded, тАЬI amтБатАФO so stupid!тАЭ + 

Louisa, with a brighter laugh than usual, told her she would be wiser by-and-by. + 

тАЬYou donтАЩt know,тАЭ said Sissy, half crying, тАЬwhat a stupid girl I am. All through school hours I make mistakes. Mr.┬аand Mrs.┬аMтАЩChoakumchild call me up, over and over again, regularly to make mistakes. I canтАЩt help them. They seem to come natural to me.тАЭ + 

тАЬMr.┬аand Mrs.┬аMтАЩChoakumchild never make any mistakes themselves, I suppose, Sissy?тАЭ + 

тАЬO no!тАЭ she eagerly returned. тАЬThey know everything.тАЭ + 

тАЬTell me some of your mistakes.тАЭ + 

тАЬI am almost ashamed,тАЭ said Sissy, with reluctance. тАЬBut today, for instance, Mr.┬аMтАЩChoakumchild was explaining to us about Natural Prosperity.тАЭ + 

тАЬNational, I think it must have been,тАЭ observed Louisa. + 

тАЬYes, it was.тБатАФBut isnтАЩt it the same?тАЭ she timidly asked. + 

тАЬYou had better say, National, as he said so,тАЭ returned Louisa, with her dry reserve. + 

тАЬNational Prosperity. And he said, Now, this schoolroom is a Nation. And in this nation, there are fifty millions of money. IsnтАЩt this a prosperous nation? Girl number twenty, isnтАЩt this a prosperous nation, and aтАЩnтАЩt you in a thriving state?тАЭ + 

тАЬWhat did you say?тАЭ asked Louisa. + 

тАЬMiss Louisa, I said I didnтАЩt know. I thought I couldnтАЩt know whether it was a prosperous nation or not, and whether I was in a thriving state or not, unless I knew who had got the money, and whether any of it was mine. But that had nothing to do with it. It was not in the figures at all,тАЭ said Sissy, wiping her eyes. + 

тАЬThat was a great mistake of yours,тАЭ observed Louisa. + 

тАЬYes, Miss Louisa, I know it was, now. Then Mr.┬аMтАЩChoakumchild said he would try me again. And he said, This schoolroom is an immense town, and in it there are a million of inhabitants, and only five-and-twenty are starved to death in the streets, in the course of a year. What is your remark on that proportion? And my remark wasтБатАФfor I couldnтАЩt think of a better oneтБатАФthat I thought it must be just as hard upon those who were starved, whether the others were a million, or a million million. And that was wrong, too.тАЭ + 

тАЬOf course it was.тАЭ + 

тАЬThen Mr.┬аMтАЩChoakumchild said he would try me once more. And he said, Here are the stutteringsтБатАФтАЭ + 

тАЬStatistics,тАЭ said Louisa. + 

тАЬYes, Miss LouisaтБатАФthey always remind me of stutterings, and thatтАЩs another of my mistakesтБатАФof accidents upon the sea. And I find (Mr.┬аMтАЩChoakumchild said) that in a given time a hundred thousand persons went to sea on long voyages, and only five hundred of them were drowned or burnt to death. What is the percentage? And I said, Miss;тАЭ here Sissy fairly sobbed as confessing with extreme contrition to her greatest error; тАЬI said it was nothing.тАЭ + 

тАЬNothing, Sissy?тАЭ + 

тАЬNothing, MissтБатАФto the relations and friends of the people who were killed. I shall never learn,тАЭ said Sissy. тАЬAnd the worst of all is, that although my poor father wished me so much to learn, and although I am so anxious to learn, because he wished me to, I am afraid I donтАЩt like it.тАЭ + 

Louisa stood looking at the pretty modest head, as it drooped abashed before her, until it was raised again to glance at her face. Then she asked: + 

тАЬDid your father know so much himself, that he wished you to be well taught too, Sissy?тАЭ + 

Sissy hesitated before replying, and so plainly showed her sense that they were entering on forbidden ground, that Louisa added, тАЬNo one hears us; and if anyone did, I am sure no harm could be found in such an innocent question.тАЭ + 

тАЬNo, Miss Louisa,тАЭ answered Sissy, upon this encouragement, shaking her head; тАЬfather knows very little indeed. ItтАЩs as much as he can do to write; and itтАЩs more than people in general can do to read his writing. Though itтАЩs plain to me.тАЭ + 

тАЬYour mother?тАЭ + 

тАЬFather says she was quite a scholar. She died when I was born. She was;тАЭ Sissy made the terrible communication nervously; тАЬshe was a dancer.тАЭ + 

тАЬDid your father love her?тАЭ Louisa asked these questions with a strong, wild, wandering interest peculiar to her; an interest gone astray like a banished creature, and hiding in solitary places. + 

тАЬO yes! As dearly as he loves me. Father loved me, first, for her sake. He carried me about with him when I was quite a baby. We have never been asunder from that time.тАЭ + 

тАЬYet he leaves you now, Sissy?тАЭ + 

тАЬOnly for my good. Nobody understands him as I do; nobody knows him as I do. When he left me for my goodтБатАФhe never would have left me for his ownтБатАФI know he was almost brokenhearted with the trial. He will not be happy for a single minute, till he comes back.тАЭ + 

тАЬTell me more about him,тАЭ said Louisa, тАЬI will never ask you again. Where did you live?тАЭ + 

тАЬWe travelled about the country, and had no fixed place to live in. FatherтАЩs aтБатАФтАЭ Sissy whispered the awful word, тАЬa clown.тАЭ + 

тАЬTo make the people laugh?тАЭ said Louisa, with a nod of intelligence. + 

тАЬYes. But they wouldnтАЩt laugh sometimes, and then father cried. Lately, they very often wouldnтАЩt laugh, and he used to come home despairing. FatherтАЩs not like most. Those who didnтАЩt know him as well as I do, and didnтАЩt love him as dearly as I do, might believe he was not quite right. Sometimes they played tricks upon him; but they never knew how he felt them, and shrunk up, when he was alone with me. He was far, far timider than they thought!тАЭ + 

тАЬAnd you were his comfort through everything?тАЭ + 

She nodded, with the tears rolling down her face. тАЬI hope so, and father said I was. It was because he grew so scared and trembling, and because he felt himself to be a poor, weak, ignorant, helpless man (those used to be his words), that he wanted me so much to know a great deal, and be different from him. I used to read to him to cheer his courage, and he was very fond of that. They were wrong booksтБатАФI am never to speak of them hereтБатАФbut we didnтАЩt know there was any harm in them.тАЭ + 

тАЬAnd he liked them?тАЭ said Louisa, with a searching gaze on Sissy all this time. + 

тАЬO very much! They kept him, many times, from what did him real harm. And often and often of a night, he used to forget all his troubles in wondering whether the Sultan would let the lady go on with the story, or would have her head cut off before it was finished.тАЭ + 

тАЬAnd your father was always kind? To the last?тАЭ asked Louisa contravening the great principle, and wondering very much. + 

тАЬAlways, always!тАЭ returned Sissy, clasping her hands. тАЬKinder and kinder than I can tell. He was angry only one night, and that was not to me, but Merrylegs. MerrylegsтБатАФтАЭ she whispered the awful fact; тАЬis his performing dog.тАЭ + 

тАЬWhy was he angry with the dog?тАЭ Louisa demanded. + 

тАЬFather, soon after they came home from performing, told Merrylegs to jump up on the backs of the two chairs and stand across themтБатАФwhich is one of his tricks. He looked at father, and didnтАЩt do it at once. Everything of fatherтАЩs had gone wrong that night, and he hadnтАЩt pleased the public at all. He cried out that the very dog knew he was failing, and had no compassion on him. Then he beat the dog, and I was frightened, and said, тАШFather, father! Pray donтАЩt hurt the creature who is so fond of you! O Heaven forgive you, father, stop!тАЩ And he stopped, and the dog was bloody, and father lay down crying on the floor with the dog in his arms, and the dog licked his face.тАЭ + 

Louisa saw that she was sobbing; and going to her, kissed her, took her hand, and sat down beside her. + 

тАЬFinish by telling me how your father left you, Sissy. Now that I have asked you so much, tell me the end. The blame, if there is any blame, is mine, not yours.тАЭ + 

тАЬDear Miss Louisa,тАЭ said Sissy, covering her eyes, and sobbing yet; тАЬI came home from the school that afternoon, and found poor father just come home too, from the booth. And he sat rocking himself over the fire, as if he was in pain. And I said, тАШHave you hurt yourself, father?тАЩ (as he did sometimes, like they all did), and he said, тАШA little, my darling.тАЩ And when I came to stoop down and look up at his face, I saw that he was crying. The more I spoke to him, the more he hid his face; and at first he shook all over, and said nothing but тАШMy darling;тАЩ and тАШMy love!тАЩтАКтАЭ + 

Here Tom came lounging in, and stared at the two with a coolness not particularly savouring of interest in anything but himself, and not much of that at present. + 

тАЬI am asking Sissy a few questions, Tom,тАЭ observed his sister. тАЬYou have no occasion to go away; but donтАЩt interrupt us for a moment, Tom dear.тАЭ + 

тАЬOh! very well!тАЭ returned Tom. тАЬOnly father has brought old Bounderby home, and I want you to come into the drawing-room. Because if you come, thereтАЩs a good chance of old BounderbyтАЩs asking me to dinner; and if you donтАЩt, thereтАЩs none.тАЭ + 

тАЬIтАЩll come directly.тАЭ + 

тАЬIтАЩll wait for you,тАЭ said Tom, тАЬto make sure.тАЭ + 

Sissy resumed in a lower voice. тАЬAt last poor father said that he had given no satisfaction again, and never did give any satisfaction now, and that he was a shame and disgrace, and I should have done better without him all along. I said all the affectionate things to him that came into my heart, and presently he was quiet and I sat down by him, and told him all about the school and everything that had been said and done there. When I had no more left to tell, he put his arms round my neck, and kissed me a great many times. Then he asked me to fetch some of the stuff he used, for the little hurt he had had, and to get it at the best place, which was at the other end of town from there; and then, after kissing me again, he let me go. When I had gone downstairs, I turned back that I might be a little bit more company to him yet, and looked in at the door, and said, тАШFather dear, shall I take Merrylegs?тАЩ Father shook his head and said, тАШNo, Sissy, no; take nothing thatтАЩs known to be mine, my darling;тАЩ and I left him sitting by the fire. Then the thought must have come upon him, poor, poor father! of going away to try something for my sake; for when I came back, he was gone.тАЭ + 

тАЬI say! Look sharp for old Bounderby, Loo!тАЭ Tom remonstrated. + 

тАЬThereтАЩs no more to tell, Miss Louisa. I keep the nine oils ready for him, and I know he will come back. Every letter that I see in Mr.┬аGradgrindтАЩs hand takes my breath away and blinds my eyes, for I think it comes from father, or from Mr.┬аSleary about father. Mr.┬аSleary promised to write as soon as ever father should be heard of, and I trust to him to keep his word.тАЭ + 

тАЬDo look sharp for old Bounderby, Loo!тАЭ said Tom, with an impatient whistle. тАЬHeтАЩll be off if you donтАЩt look sharp!тАЭ + 

After this, whenever Sissy dropped a curtsey to Mr.┬аGradgrind in the presence of his family, and said in a faltering way, тАЬI beg your pardon, sir, for being troublesomeтБатАФbutтБатАФhave you had any letter yet about me?тАЭ Louisa would suspend the occupation of the moment, whatever it was, and look for the reply as earnestly as Sissy did. And when Mr.┬аGradgrind regularly answered, тАЬNo, Jupe, nothing of the sort,тАЭ the trembling of SissyтАЩs lip would be repeated in LouisaтАЩs face, and her eyes would follow Sissy with compassion to the door. Mr.┬аGradgrind usually improved these occasions by remarking, when she was gone, that if Jupe had been properly trained from an early age she would have remonstrated to herself on sound principles the baselessness of these fantastic hopes. Yet it did seem (though not to him, for he saw nothing of it) as if fantastic hope could take as strong a hold as Fact. + 

This observation must be limited exclusively to his daughter. As to Tom, he was becoming that not unprecedented triumph of calculation which is usually at work on number one. As to Mrs.┬аGradgrind, if she said anything on the subject, she would come a little way out of her wrappers, like a feminine dormouse, and say: + 

тАЬGood gracious bless me, how my poor head is vexed and worried by that girl JupeтАЩs so perseveringly asking, over and over again, about her tiresome letters! Upon my word and honour I seem to be fated, and destined, and ordained, to live in the midst of things that I am never to hear the last of. It really is a most extraordinary circumstance that it appears as if I never was to hear the last of anything!тАЭ + 

At about this point, Mr.┬аGradgrindтАЩs eye would fall upon her; and under the influence of that wintry piece of fact, she would become torpid again. + 