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plate on the door； with the inscription； JELLYBY。
“Don’t be frightened！” said Mr Guppy； looking in at the coach…
window。 “One of the young Jellybys been and got his head
through the area railings！”
“O poor child；” said I； “let me out； if you please！”
“Pray be careful of yourself； miss。 The young Jellybys are
always up to something；” said Mr Guppy。
I made my way to the poor child； who was one of the dirtiest
little unfortunates I ever saw； and found him very hot and
frightened； and crying loudly； fixed by the neck between two iron
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railings； while a milkman and a beadle； with the kindest intentions
possible； were endeavouring to drag him back by the legs； under a
general impression that his skull was compressible by those
means。 As I found （after pacifying him）； that he was a little boy；
with a naturally large head； I thought that； perhaps； where his
head could go； his body could follow； and mentioned that the best
mode of extrication might be to push him forward。 This was so
favourably received by the milkman and beadle； that he would
immediately have been pushed into the area； if I had not held his
pinafore while Richard and Mr Guppy ran down through the
kitchen； to catch him when he should be released。 At last he was
happily got down without any accident； and then he began to beat
Mr Guppy with a hoop…stick in quite a frantic manner。
Nobody had appeared belonging to the house； except a person
in patterns； who had been poking at the child from below with a
broom； I don’t know with what object； and I don’t think she did。 I
therefore supposed that Mrs Jellyby was not at home； and was
quite surprised when the person appeared in the passage without
the pattens； and going up to the back room on the first floor；
before Ada and me； announced us as “Them two young ladies；
Missis Jellyby！” We passed several more children on the way up；
whom it was difficult to avoid treading on in the dark； and as we
came into Mrs Jellyby’s presence； one of the poor little things fell
downstairs—down a whole flight （as it sounded to me）； with a
great noise。
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—
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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。
“I am very glad； indeed；” said Mrs Jellyby； in an agreeable
voice； “to have the pleasure of receiving you。 I have a great respect
for Mr Jarndyce； and no one in whom he is interested can be an
object of indifference to me。”
We expressed our acknowledgments； and sat down behind the
door where there was a lame invalid of a sofa。 Mrs Jellyby had
very good hair； but was too much occupied with her African duties
to brush it。 The shawl in which she had been loosely muffled；
dropped on to her chair when she advanced to us； and as she
turned to resume her seat； we could not help noticing that her
dress didn’t nearly meet up the back； and that the open space was
railed across with a lattice…work of stay…lace—like a summer…
house。
The room； which was strewn with papers and nearly filled by a
great writing…table covered with similar litter； was； I must say； not
only very untidy； but very dirty。 We were obliged to take notice of
that with our sense of sight； even while； with our sense of hearing；
we followed the poor child who had tumbled downstairs： I think
into the back kitchen； where somebody seemed to stifle him。
But what principally struck us was a jaded； and unhealthy…
looking； though by no means plain girl； at the writing…table； who
sat biting the feather of her pen and staring at us。 I suppose
nobody ever was in such a state of ink。 And； from her tumbled hair
to her pretty feet； which were disfigured with frayed and broken
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satin slippers trodden down at heel； she really seemed to have no
article of dress upon her； from a pin upwards； that was in its
proper condition or its right place。
“You find me； my dears；” said Mrs Jellyby； snuffing the two
great office candles in tin candlesticks which made the room taste
strongly of hot tallow （the fire had gone out； and there was nothing
in the grate but ashes； a bundle of wood； and a poker）； “you find
me； my dears； as usual； very busy； but that you will excuse。 The
African project at present employs my whole time。 It involves me
in correspondence with public bodies； and with private individuals
anxious for the welfare of their species all over the country。 I am
happy to say it is advancing。 We hope by this time next year to
have from a hundred and fifty to two hundred healthy families
cultivating coffee and educating the natives of Borrioboola…Gha；
on the left bank of the Niger。”
As Ada said nothing； but looked at me； I said it must be very
gratifying。
“It is gratifying；” said Mrs Jellyby。 “It involves the devotion of
all my energies； such as they are； but that is nothing； so that it
succeeds； and I am more confident of success every day。 Do you
know； Miss Summerson； I almost wonder that you never turned
your thoughts to Africa？”
This application of the subject was really so unexpected to me；
that I was quite at a loss how to receive it。 I hinted that the
climate—
“The finest climate in the world！” said Mrs Jellyby。
“Indeed； ma’am？”
“Certainly。 With precaution；” said Mrs Jellyby。
“You may go into Holborn； without precaution； and be run
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over。 You may go into Holborn； with precaution； and never be run
over。 Just so with Africa。”
I said； “No doubt。”—I meant as to Holborn。
“If you would like；” said Mrs Jellyby； putting a number of
papers towards us； “to look over some remarks on that head； and
on the general subject （which have been extensively ci