my friends.”
“You’re a man of business, you are,” returns Mr. Bucket, very attentive, “and consequently you’re going on to mention what the nature of your secret is. You are right. You couldn’t do better.”
“Let us then, my brother, in a spirit of love,” says Mr. Chadband with a cunning eye, “proceed unto it. Rachael, my wife, advance!”
Mrs. Chadband, more than ready, so advances as to jostle her husband into the background and confronts Mr. Bucket with a hard, frowning smile.
“Since you want to know what we know,” says she, “I’ll tell you. I helped to bring up Miss Hawdon, her Ladyship’s daughter. I was in the service of her Ladyship’s sister, who was very sensitive to the disgrace her Ladyship brought upon her, and gave out, even to her Ladyship, that the child was dead—she was very nearly so—when she was born. But she’s alive, and I know her.” With these words, and a laugh, and laying a bitter stress on the word “Ladyship,” Mrs. Chadband folds her arms and looks implacably at Mr. Bucket.