“If there is anything in the world,” said my aunt, with great decision and force of manner, “that Mr. Dick is not, it’s that.”

I had nothing better to offer, than another timid, “Oh, indeed!”

“He has been called mad,” said my aunt. “I have a selfish pleasure in saying he has been called mad, or I should not have had the benefit of his society and advice for these last ten years and upwards⁠—in fact, ever since your sister, Betsey Trotwood, disappointed me.”

“So long as that?” I said.