It was in this stage of his progress, and in about the third week of his
occupation, that Mr Pancks's fancy became attracted by the little man.
Mounting to his attic, attended by Mrs Plornish as interpreter, he found
Mr Baptist with no furniture but his bed on the ground, a table, and a
chair, carving with the aid of a few simple tools, in the blithest way
possible. 'Now, old chap,' said Mr Pancks, 'pay up!'
He had his money ready, folded in a scrap of paper, and laughingly
handed it in; then with a free action, threw out as many fingers of his
right hand as there were shillings, and made a cut crosswise in the air
for an odd sixpence. 'Oh!' said Mr Pancks, watching him, wonderingly. 'That's it, is it?
You're a quick customer. It's all right. I didn't expect to receive it,
though.' Mrs Plornish here interposed with great condescension, and explained to
Mr Baptist. 'E please. E glad get money.'
The little man smiled and nodded. His bright face seemed uncommonly
attractive to Mr Pancks. 'How's he getting on in his limb?' he asked Mrs
Plornish. 'Oh, he's a deal better, sir,' said Mrs Plornish. 'We expect next week
he'll be able to leave off his stick entirely.' (The opportunity
being too favourable to be lost, Mrs Plornish displayed her great
accomplishment by explaining with pardonable pride to Mr Baptist, 'E ope
you leg well soon.') 'He's a merry fellow, too,' said Mr Pancks, admiring him as if he were a
mechanical toy. 'How does he live?'
'Why, sir,' rejoined Mrs Plornish, 'he turns out to have quite a power
of carving them flowers that you see him at now.' (Mr Baptist, watching
their faces as they spoke, held up his work. Mrs Plornish interpreted in
her Italian manner, on behalf of Mr Pancks, 'E please. Double good!')
'Can he live by that?' asked Mr Pancks. 'He can live on very little,
sir, and it is expected as he will be able, in time, to make a very good
living. Mr Clennam got it him to do, and gives him odd jobs besides in
at the Works next door--makes 'em for him, in short, when he knows he
wants 'em.' 'And what does he do with himself, now, when he ain't hard at it?' said
Mr Pancks. 'Why, not much as yet, sir, on accounts I suppose of not being able to
walk much; but he goes about the Yard, and he chats without particular
understanding or being understood, and he plays with the children,
and he sits in the sun--he'll sit down anywhere, as if it was an
arm-chair--and he'll sing, and he'll laugh!'