Mr. Lightwood coughed, not convinced.
“And speaking of satisfactory,” pursued Mr. Boffin, “why, Lord save us! when we come to take it to pieces, bit by bit, where’s the satisfactoriness of the money as yet? When the old man does right the poor boy after all, the poor boy gets no good of it. He gets made away with, at the moment when he’s lifting (as one may say) the cup and sarser to his lips. Mr. Lightwood, I will now name to you, that on behalf of the poor dear boy, me and Mrs. Boffin have stood out against the old man times out of number, till he has called us every name he could lay his tongue to. I have seen him, after Mrs. Boffin has given him her mind respecting the claims of the nat’ral affections, catch off Mrs. Boffin’s bonnet (she wore, in general, a black straw, perched as a matter of convenience on the top of her head), and send it spinning across the yard. I have indeed. And once, when he did this in a manner that amounted to personal, I should have given him a rattler for himself, if Mrs. Boffin hadn’t thrown herself betwixt us, and received flush on the temple. Which dropped her, Mr. Lightwood. Dropped her.”
Mr. Lightwood murmured “Equal honour— Mrs. Boffin’s head and heart.”
“You understand; I name this,” pursued Mr. Boffin, “to show you, now the affairs are wound up, that me and Mrs. Boffin have ever stood as we were in Christian honour bound, the children’s friend. Me and Mrs. Boffin stood the poor girl’s friend; me and Mrs. Boffin stood the poor boy’s friend; me and Mrs. Boffin up and faced the old man when we momently expected to be turned out for our pains. As to Mrs. Boffin,” said Mr. Boffin lowering his voice, “she mightn’t wish it mentioned now she’s fashionable, but she went so far as to tell him, in my presence, he was a flinty-hearted rascal.”