seen him once. You give a good account of him. Is he at home?”
“ Mr. Rokesmith is at home,” said Mrs. Wilfer; “indeed,” pointing through the window, “there he stands at the garden gate. Waiting for you, perhaps?”
“Perhaps so,” replied Mr. Boffin. “Saw me come in, maybe.”
Bella had closely attended to this short dialogue. Accompanying Mrs. Boffin to the gate, she as closely watched what followed.
“How are you, sir, how are you?” said Mr. Boffin. “This is Mrs. Boffin. Mr. Rokesmith, that I told you of; my dear.”
She gave him good day, and he bestirred himself and helped her to her seat, and the like, with a ready hand.
“Goodbye for the present, Miss Bella,” said Mrs. Boffin, calling out a hearty parting. “We shall meet again soon! And then I hope I shall have my little John Harmon to show you.”
Mr. Rokesmith, who was at the wheel adjusting the skirts of her dress, suddenly looked behind him, and around him, and then looked up at her, with a face so pale that Mrs. Boffin cried:
“Gracious!” And after a moment, “What’s the matter, sir?”
“How can you show her the dead?” returned Mr. Rokesmith.
“It’s only an adopted child. One I have told her of. One I’m going to give the name to!”
“You took me by surprise,” said Mr. Rokesmith, “and it sounded like an omen, that you should speak of showing the dead to one so young and blooming.”