“Truly,” returned Mrs. Wilfer, courteously receiving the deserter, “it would seem that we are required to think so. And this, Lavinia, is my reason for objecting to a tone of levity. Mrs. Boffin (of whose physiognomy I can never speak with the composure I would desire to preserve), and your mother, are not on terms of intimacy. It is not for a moment to be supposed that she and her husband dare to presume to speak of this family as the Wilfers. I cannot therefore condescend to speak of them as the Boffins. No; for such a tone—call it familiarity, levity, equality, or what you will—would imply those social interchanges which do not exist. Do I render myself intelligible?”
Without taking the least notice of this inquiry, albeit delivered in an imposing and forensic manner, Lavinia reminded her sister, “After all, you know, Bella, you haven’t told us how your Whatshisnames are.”
“I don’t want to speak of them here,” replied Bella, suppressing indignation, and tapping her foot on the floor. “They are much too kind and too good to be drawn into these discussions.”
“Why put it so?” demanded Mrs. Wilfer, with biting sarcasm. “Why adopt a circuitous form of speech? It is polite and it is obliging; but why do it? Why not openly say that they are much too kind and too good for us ? We understand the allusion. Why disguise the phrase?”
“Ma,” said Bella, with one beat of her foot, “you are enough to drive a saint mad, and so is Lavvy.”
“Unfortunate Lavvy!” cried Mrs. Wilfer, in a tone of commiseration. “She always comes for it. My poor child!” But Lavvy, with the suddenness of her former desertion, now bounced over to the other enemy: very sharply remarking, “Don’t patronize me , Ma, because I can take care of myself.”