“ Pray don’t say that!” urged Mrs. Milvey.
“No, don’t say that,” assented Mr. Milvey, “because we are so much obliged to you for giving us the preference.” Which Mrs. Milvey confirmed; and really the kind, conscientious couple spoke, as if they kept some profitable orphan warehouse and were personally patronized. “But it is a responsible trust,” added Mr. Milvey, “and difficult to discharge. At the same time, we are naturally very unwilling to lose the chance you so kindly give us, and if you could afford us a day or two to look about us—you know, Margaretta, we might carefully examine the workhouse, and the Infant School, and your District.”
“To be sure !” said the emphatic little wife.
“We have orphans, I know,” pursued Mr. Milvey, quite with the air as if he might have added, “in stock,” and quite as anxiously as if there were great competition in the business and he were afraid of losing an order, “over at the clay-pits; but they are employed by relations or friends, and I am afraid it would come at last to a transaction in the way of barter. And even if you exchanged blankets for the child—or books and firing—it would be impossible to prevent their being turned into liquor.”
Accordingly, it was resolved that Mr. and Mrs. Milvey should search for an orphan likely to suit, and as free as possible from the foregoing objections, and should communicate again with Mrs. Boffin. Then, Mr. Boffin took the liberty of mentioning to Mr. Milvey that if Mr. Milvey would do him the kindness to be perpetually his banker to the extent of “a twenty-pound note or so,” to be expended without any reference to him, he would be heartily obliged. At this, both Mr. Milvey and Mrs. Milvey were quite as much pleased as if they had no wants of their own, but only knew what poverty was, in the persons of other people; and so the interview terminated with satisfaction and good opinion on all sides.
“Now, old lady,” said Mr. Boffin, as they resumed their seats behind the hammer-headed horse and man: “having made a very agreeable visit