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Great Expectations

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8 Visiting Mr Wemmick and Mr Jaggers

Herbert introduced me to his father， who lived the other side of London， in Hammersmith． In the next few months I studied hard with Mr Pocket， who was always a most kind and helpful teacher．I divided my time between Herbert's and his father's home． If I needed money，I collected it from Wemmick at Mr Jaggers’ office， and there seemed to be plenty of money available．

There were two other gentlemen studying at Mr Pocket's．They were quite different from each other． Bentley Drummle came from a rich family living in the country． He was lazy，proud， mean and stupid．I much preferred Startop， who was a pleasant， sensitive young man．He and I used to row our boats up and down the river together． But Herbert was my greatest friend， and we used to spend most of our time with each other．

One day when I was collecting my money from Wemmick，he invited me to his house at Walworth， a village outside Lon－don．

‘You don't mind walking there， Mr Pip？’he asked．‘I like to get some exercise if I can．For dinner we're having a roast chicken． I think it'll be a good one because I got it from one of our clients． I always accept any little presents from clients， especially if it's cash， or anything that can easily be changed into cash． You see these rings I'm wearing？ Given by clients， just before they died．All hanged， they were．By the way，I hope you won't mind meeting my aged parent？’

‘No，of course not，’I said quickly．

‘You haven't had dinner with Mr Jaggers yet？’ Wemmick continued．‘He's inviting you， and the other three young gentlemen， tomorrow． There'll be good food and drink at his house． But I'll tell you something， Mr Pip．When you're there， look at his housekeeper．’

‘Why？’ I asked．‘Is there something strange about her？’

‘She's like a wild animal．But Mr Jaggers has trained her！Oh yes！He's stronger，and cleverer， and more complicated than anyone else in London．And you know，another strange thing about him， he never locks his doors or windows at night．’

‘Isn't he ever robbed？’I asked in surprise．

‘All the thieves in London know where he lives，but none of them would dare to rob him． They are all afraid of him， you see．They know he wouldn't rest until he had seen them hanged． He's a great man， Mr Pip．’

Wemmick's house at Walworth was a tiny wooden house in the middle of a garden． On top of the roof was a small gun．

‘We fire the gun at nine o’clock every evening，’said Wemmick proudly．‘And behind the house－I call it the Castle－I keep animals， and grow my own vegetables．So，in case of enemy attack， we can always eat our own food．What do you think of it？’

I congratulated him on his home． He was clearly delighted to show a visitor all his ideas and improvements．

‘I do everything myself，you know，’ he said．‘It helps me forget the office for a while． Would you mind being introduced to the Aged now？ He would like it very much．’

So we entered the Castle， where we found a cheerful old man sitting by the fire．

‘well，aged parent，’ said Wemmick，‘how are you？’

‘Very well， John，’ replied the old man，nodding happily．

‘Here's Mr Pip，aged parent． Nod your head at him， Mr Pip，he's completely deaf，but he likes to see people nod at him．’

‘This is a fine house of my son's， sir，’ cried the old man，nodding back at me．‘It should be kept by the nation for the public to visit after my son's death．’

‘You're proud of it，aren't you，Aged？’said Wemmick，his face losing all its usual hardness as he looked at the old man．

‘I hope Mr Jaggers admires your home， Mr Wemmick？’ I asked．

‘He's never been here． Never met the Aged．Never been invited． No， the office is one thing， and private life is another． At the office I never speak of the Castle， and at the Castle I don't think about the office．’

The Aged was obviously looking forward to the evening ceremony of firing the gun． At nine o’clock exactly Wemmick fired it．As the tiny house shook， the Aged jumped up and down in his armchair， crying excitedly，‘I heard it！That's the gun！’

Supper was excellent， and I spent the night in the smallest bedroom I had ever seen． Next morning， as Wemmick and I walked back to London， I noticed his face becoming dryer and harder， and his mouth becoming more like a post-box again．When we arrived at the office，nobody could have guessed that he had a home， or an aged parent， or any interests at all out－side his work．

Wemmick was right in saying that Mr Jaggers would invite me to dinner． Startop， Drummle， Herbert and I were asked to go to the office at six o’clock the next evening．There we found Jaggers washing his hands and face carefully with per－fumed soap． He did this every evening before going home． He seemed to be washing away his clients and his work， like dirt．We all walked to his house together．

The housekeeper brought in the first dish． She was about forty，with a strange wild expression on her pale face． She seemed almost afraid of her master， and looked anxiously at him whenever she entered the room．

The food was indeed very good， and the conversation was cheerful． But somehow Mr Jaggers made us all show the worst side of our characters， and encouraged Drummle， who we all disliked，to annoy us． When Drummle stupidly said that he was stronger than any of us， we all protested， foolishly showing each other our muscles to prove how strong we were．Suddenly Mr Jaggers clapped his large hand on the housekeeper's，as she was removing a dish． We stopped talking immediately．

‘Gentlemen，’ he said，‘look at my housekeeper here．She is stronger than any of you．Molly， show them your wrists．’

‘No， please， master，’ she begged， trying to pull away， but he held her hand firmly．

‘Show them，Molly，’ he said，and she held her wrists out to us．‘I've never seen stronger hands than these，’he said．There was silence for a few minutes．‘All right， Molly， you can go，’he said， and she hurried out．

During the rest of the dinner， Mr Jaggers continued to enjoy watching us quarrelling with Drummle．He gave the impression，surprisingly， of liking Drummle very much．But I was glad when the dinner was over， and Herbert and I could walk quietly back to our rooms together．