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Mrs.
Sparsit
sat
in
her
afternoon
apartment
at
the
Bank
,
on
the
shadier
side
of
the
frying
street
.
Office-hours
were
over
:
and
at
that
period
of
the
day
,
in
warm
weather
,
she
usually
embellished
with
her
genteel
presence
,
a
managerial
board-room
over
the
public
office
.
Her
own
private
sitting-room
was
a
story
higher
,
at
the
window
of
which
post
of
observation
she
was
ready
,
every
morning
,
to
greet
Mr.
Bounderby
,
as
he
came
across
the
road
,
with
the
sympathizing
recognition
appropriate
to
a
Victim
.
He
had
been
married
now
a
year
;
and
Mrs.
Sparsit
had
never
released
him
from
her
determined
pity
a
moment
.
The
Bank
offered
no
violence
to
the
wholesome
monotony
of
the
town
.
It
was
another
red
brick
house
,
with
black
outside
shutters
,
green
inside
blinds
,
a
black
street-door
up
two
white
steps
,
a
brazen
door-plate
,
and
a
brazen
door-handle
full
stop
.
It
was
a
size
larger
than
Mr.
Bounderby
's
house
,
as
other
houses
were
from
a
size
to
half-a-dozen
sizes
smaller
;
in
all
other
particulars
,
it
was
strictly
according
to
pattern
.
Mrs.
Sparsit
was
conscious
that
by
coming
in
the
evening-tide
among
the
desks
and
writing
implements
,
she
shed
a
feminine
,
not
to
say
also
aristocratic
,
grace
upon
the
office
.
Seated
,
with
her
needlework
or
netting
apparatus
,
at
the
window
,
she
had
a
self-laudatory
sense
of
correcting
,
by
her
ladylike
deportment
,
the
rude
business
aspect
of
the
place
.
With
this
impression
of
her
interesting
character
upon
her
,
Mrs.
Sparsit
considered
herself
,
in
some
sort
,
the
Bank
Fairy
.
The
townspeople
who
,
in
their
passing
and
repassing
,
saw
her
there
,
regarded
her
as
the
Bank
Dragon
keeping
watch
over
the
treasures
of
the
mine
.
What
those
treasures
were
,
Mrs.
Sparsit
knew
as
little
as
they
did
.
Gold
and
silver
coin
,
precious
paper
,
secrets
that
if
divulged
would
bring
vague
destruction
upon
vague
persons
(
generally
,
however
,
people
whom
she
disliked
)
,
were
the
chief
items
in
her
ideal
catalogue
thereof
.
For
the
rest
,
she
knew
that
after
office-hours
,
she
reigned
supreme
over
all
the
office
furniture
,
and
over
a
locked-up
iron
room
with
three
locks
,
against
the
door
of
which
strong
chamber
the
light
porter
laid
his
head
every
night
,
on
a
truckle
bed
,
that
disappeared
at
cockcrow
.
Further
,
she
was
lady
paramount
over
certain
vaults
in
the
basement
,
sharply
spiked
off
from
communication
with
the
predatory
world
;
and
over
the
relics
of
the
current
day
's
work
,
consisting
of
blots
of
ink
,
worn-out
pens
,
fragments
of
wafers
,
and
scraps
of
paper
torn
so
small
,
that
nothing
interesting
could
ever
be
deciphered
on
them
when
Mrs.
Sparsit
tried
.
Lastly
,
she
was
guardian
over
a
little
armoury
of
cutlasses
and
carbines
,
arrayed
in
vengeful
order
above
one
of
the
official
chimney-pieces
;
and
over
that
respectable
tradition
never
to
be
separated
from
a
place
of
business
claiming
to
be
wealthy
--
a
row
of
fire-buckets
--
vessels
calculated
to
be
of
no
physical
utility
on
any
occasion
,
but
observed
to
exercise
a
fine
moral
influence
,
almost
equal
to
bullion
,
on
most
beholders
.
A
deaf
serving-woman
and
the
light
porter
completed
Mrs.
Sparsit
's
empire
.
The
deaf
serving-woman
was
rumoured
to
be
wealthy
;
and
a
saying
had
for
years
gone
about
among
the
lower
orders
of
Coketown
,
that
she
would
be
murdered
some
night
when
the
Bank
was
shut
,
for
the
sake
of
her
money
.
It
was
generally
considered
,
indeed
,
that
she
had
been
due
some
time
,
and
ought
to
have
fallen
long
ago
;
but
she
had
kept
her
life
,
and
her
situation
,
with
an
ill-conditioned
tenacity
that
occasioned
much
offence
and
disappointment
.
Mrs.
Sparsit
's
tea
was
just
set
for
her
on
a
pert
little
table
,
with
its
tripod
of
legs
in
an
attitude
,
which
she
insinuated
after
office-hours
,
into
the
company
of
the
stern
,
leathern-topped
,
long
board-table
that
bestrode
the
middle
of
the
room
.
The
light
porter
placed
the
tea-tray
on
it
,
knuckling
his
forehead
as
a
form
of
homage
.
'
Thank
you
,
Bitzer
,
'
said
Mrs.
Sparsit
.
