“A poor one enough,” said Rokesmith.
“Pardon me,” returned Mrs. Wilfer, “the merits of Mr. Boffin may be highly distinguished—may be more distinguished than the countenance of Mrs. Boffin would imply—but it were the insanity of humility to deem him worthy of a better assistant.”
“You are very good. I have also been telling Miss Wilfer that she is expected very shortly at the new residence in town.”
“Having tacitly consented,” said Mrs. Wilfer, with a grand shrug of her shoulders, and another wave of her gloves, “to my child’s acceptance of the proffered attentions of Mrs. Boffin, I interpose no objection.”
Here Miss Bella offered the remonstrance: “Don’t talk nonsense, ma, please.”
“Peace!” said Mrs. Wilfer.
“No, ma, I am not going to be made so absurd. Interposing objections!”
“I say,” repeated Mrs. Wilfer, with a vast access of grandeur, “that I am not going to interpose objections. If Mrs. Boffin (to whose countenance no disciple of Lavater could possibly for a single moment subscribe),” with a shiver, “seeks to illuminate her new residence in town with the attractions of a child of mine, I am content that she should be favoured by the company of a child of mine.”
“You use the word, ma’am, I have myself used,” said Rokesmith, with a glance at Bella, “when you speak of Miss Wilfer’s attractions there.”