Great Expectations by Charles Dickens Page B

a different kind of life. I dreamed about being rich, having nice clothes, and spending every day reading books and learning.
    Suddenly my sister interrupted my daydreams. She burst into the room with Mr. Pumblechook.
    “Now,” she said, undoing her coatquickly, “if this boy ain’t grateful this night, he never will be! I only hope she doesn’t pamper him.”
    “She’s not like that,” said Mr. Pumblechook. “She’s definitely not the type to pamper.”
    “Who’s not the type?” asked Joe. “Who is
she
?” Joe looked at me.
    “Miss Havisham,” replied my sister impatiently. “She wants Pip to play with a girl who’s living with her. She might even pay him. He better go, or he’ll answer to me.”
    “I wonder how Miss Havisham knows our Pip,” said Joe, astounded.
    “Noodlehead!” cried my sister. “Who said she knew him?”
    “Well, how else could she know about Pip?” asked Joe, politely.
    “Our dear Uncle Pumblechook is a neighbor of hers,” began my sister. “Perhaps she asked him if he knew a boy just like Pip. And then our thoughtful, kind Uncle Pumblechook mentioned this boy!”
    My sister waved a hand in my direction. Mr. Pumblechook puffed out his chest and stared up at the ceiling. He was proud that he knew Miss Havisham.
    “This boy could earn a fortune by going to Miss Havisham’s. He should be grateful,” said my sister.
    I wasn’t grateful at all. I was nervous. Miss Havisham was a rich and grim lady who lived at the edge of town in a large and cheerless house. People said she never went outside. I didn’t want to meet the strange woman—or spend every day with her. The whole idea sounded terrible.
    But I didn’t have much choice in the matter. The next day my sister shooed me out the door at dawn. I slowly walked across town to the iron gates of Miss Havisham’s house with Mr. Pumblechook by my side. A servant answered the bell and opened the gate. She slammed it after me.
    “She don’t want to see
you
,” the woman announced to Mr. Pumblechook.
    I followed her through the courtyard and the dark hallways of the house. We climbed a staircase and came, at last, to a door.
    The servant knocked and said, “Go in.” Then she pushed me into the room and closed the door behind me.
    The room was large and well lit by candles. In an armchair sat Miss Havisham—the strangest lady I had ever seen.
    Miss Havisham was dressed all in white. A long veil covered her head. Jewels glittered on her neck and hands. She was dressed for a wedding.
    Even her hair was white. Her face was pale and withered. It seemed as if she had dressed for a wedding many years ago and had grown old since. She looked like a wax figure in a museum!
    “Who is it?” asked the lady.
    “Pip, ma’am,” I replied.
    “Pip?”
    “Mr. Pumblechook’s boy, ma’am. I’ve come to play,” I explained.
    “Come closer,” said Miss Havisham. “Are you afraid of a woman who has not seen the sun since before you were born?”
    I was terrified, but said nothing. I stepped closer. I saw that Miss Havisham’s watch had stopped at twenty minutes to nine. The clock in the room also read twenty minutes to nine.
    “Do you know what I touch here?” she said, laying her hand on the left side of her chest.
    “Your heart,” I said.
    “Broken!” she cried.
    A strange smile lit her face.
    “I am tired,” said Miss Havisham. “I want to watch you play. A girl lives with me here. Her name is Estella. Call for her.”
    I opened the door and shouted downthe dark hall for Estella. I called again, and waited. At last, I saw a light like a star moving along the dark passage.
    A young girl entered the room. She walked over to Miss Havisham, who placed a jewel against the girl’s pretty brown hair.
    “It shall be yours one day,” Miss Havisham told Estella. “You shall wear it well. Now, let me see you play cards with this boy.”
    “With
this
boy?” asked the girl. Her pretty face soured with scorn.
    “This is a