Mr. Pocket said he was glad to see me. He was a young-looking man with grey hair, and he seemed very kind, though he always looked a bit worried. He had a strange habit: when he was stressed, he would put his hands in his hair and try to lift himself out of his chair. It was a funny sight, but he seemed like a good man.
He introduced me to his wife, Belinda. She was sitting in the garden reading a book about noble families. When Mr. Pocket asked if she had welcomed me, she looked up and asked if I liked the taste of orange-flower water. It was a strange question that had nothing to do with anything, but I soon realized that Mrs. Pocket lived in her own world.
I found out later that Mrs. Pocket was the daughter of a man who thought he was much more important than he really was. He had been made a Knight by accident, but he raised his daughter to believe she was a great lady. Because of this, she never learned how to take care of a house or look after children. She was "ornamental" but completely useless. She had married Mr. Pocket when they were both young, and since he didn't have a title or much money, they struggled to manage their lives.
Mr. Pocket showed me my room, which was very comfortable. Then he introduced me to the two other students living there: Drummle and Startop. Drummle was a heavy, sulky-looking young man who spent his time whistling. Startop was younger and much friendlier, though he always seemed to be studying too hard.
I soon noticed something strange about the house. Mr. and Mrs. Pocket didn’t really run it; the servants did. The servants, Flopson and Millers, did whatever they liked, spent a lot of money on expensive food for themselves, and ignored the Pockets. It was a messy way to live. Once, a neighbor even wrote a note to say she had seen one of the servants hitting the baby! Mrs. Pocket just cried and said the neighbors should mind their own business.
During dinner, I met a neighbor named Mrs. Coiler. She was a widow who spent the whole time flattering everyone. She told me how "aristocratic" Mrs. Pocket was and how hard it was for such a lady to have students living in her house. She was very "snaky" and talked as if she were my best friend, even though we had just met.
At the table, I learned that Drummle was actually related to a very noble family. This made Mrs. Pocket very happy. She and Drummle spent the whole meal talking about titles and grand families. No one else was interested, especially not Herbert, who looked bored.
Suddenly, the dinner was interrupted. The servant came in to say that the cook had lost the roast beef. I was amazed to see Mr. Pocket suddenly grab his hair and try to lift himself up again. No one else seemed surprised; they were used to it.
After dinner, the children were brought in. There were seven of them, including a baby. Mrs. Pocket didn’t seem to know what to do with them. At one point, she gave the baby a pair of sharp nut-crackers to play with. When a little girl named Jane tried to take them away to save the baby’s eyes, Mrs. Pocket got angry.
"You naughty child!" she shouted. "How dare you interfere!"
Mr. Pocket groaned. "Belinda, the child was only trying to save the baby!"
"I will not be told what to do by Jane," Mrs. Pocket replied grandly. Mr. Pocket grabbed his hair again and actually lifted himself a few inches off his chair in frustration.
Later that evening, we went rowing on the river. Drummle and Startop both had boats, so I decided to get one too. I wanted to be the best rower on the Thames. I hired a teacher who told me I had "the arms of a blacksmith." I didn't think that was a compliment, but I kept practicing.
When we returned home for supper, there was more trouble. A housemaid named Sophia came in and insisted on speaking to Mr. Pocket. Mrs. Pocket was offended that a servant wanted to speak to her husband instead of her, but Mr. Pocket went downstairs anyway.
He came back looking desperate. "Belinda," he said, "the cook is lying drunk on the kitchen floor, and she has stolen a huge pile of butter to sell it!"
Instead of being angry at the cook, Mrs. Pocket was angry at Sophia for telling them. "Sophia is just making mischief," she said. "The cook is a very nice woman. She once told me I was born to be a Duchess."
Mr. Pocket sighed and dropped onto the sofa, looking defeated. "Good night, Pip," he said in a tired voice. I decided it was best to go to bed and leave them to their chaotic life.