“Thank’ee,” replied Bounderby, in a short, ungracious manner. “But I tell you what. It might have been twenty thousand pound.”

“I suppose it might.”

“Suppose it might! By the Lord, you may suppose so. By George!” said Mr. Bounderby, with sundry menacing nods and shakes of his head. “It might have been twice twenty. There’s no knowing what it would have been, or wouldn’t have been, as it was, but for the fellows’ being disturbed.”

Louisa had come up now, and Mrs. Sparsit, and Bitzer.

“Here’s Tom Gradgrind’s daughter knows pretty well what it might have been, if you don’t,” blustered Bounderby. “Dropped, sir, as if she was shot when I told her! Never knew her do such a thing before. Does her credit, under the circumstances, in my opinion!”