there, we’ll try Wilfer’s.”
It appeared, on their drawing up at the family gate, that to try Wilfer’s was a thing more easily projected than done, on account of the extreme difficulty of getting into that establishment; three pulls at the bell producing no external result; though each was attended by audible sounds of scampering and rushing within. At the fourth tug—vindictively administered by the hammer-headed young man—Miss Lavinia appeared, emerging from the house in an accidental manner, with a bonnet and parasol, as designing to take a contemplative walk. The young lady was astonished to find visitors at the gate, and expressed her feelings in appropriate action.
“Here’s Mr. and Mrs. Boffin!” growled the hammer-headed young man through the bars of the gate, and at the same time shaking it, as if he were on view in a Menagerie; “they’ve been here half an hour.”
“Who did you say?” asked Miss Lavinia.
“ Mr. and Mrs. Boffin ” returned the young man, rising into a roar.
Miss Lavinia tripped up the steps to the house-door, tripped down the steps with the key, tripped across the little garden, and opened the gate. “Please to walk in,” said Miss Lavinia, haughtily. “Our servant is out.”
Mr. and Mrs. Boffin complying, and pausing in the little hall until Miss Lavinia came up to show them where to go next, perceived three pairs of listening legs upon the stairs above. Mrs. Wilfer’s legs, Miss Bella’s legs, Mr. George Sampson’s legs.
“ Mr. and Mrs. Boffin, I think?” said Lavinia, in a warning voice. Strained attention on the part of Mrs. Wilfer’s legs, of Miss Bella’s legs, of Mr. George Sampson’s legs.
“Yes, Miss.”