“I hate the Boffins!” protested Miss Lavinia. “I don’t care who objects to their being called the Boffins. I will call ’em the Boffins. The Boffins, the Boffins, the Boffins! And I say they are mischief-making Boffins, and I say the Boffins have set Bella against me, and I tell the Boffins to their faces:” which was not strictly the fact, but the young lady was excited: “that they are detestable Boffins, disreputable Boffins, odious Boffins, beastly Boffins. There!”
Here Miss Lavinia burst into tears.
The front garden-gate clanked, and the Secretary was seen coming at a brisk pace up the steps. “Leave me to open the door to him,” said Mrs. Wilfer, rising with stately resignation as she shook her head and dried her eyes; “we have at present no stipendiary girl to do so. We have nothing to conceal. If he sees these traces of emotion on our cheeks, let him construe them as he may.”
With those words she stalked out. In a few moments she stalked in again, proclaiming in her heraldic manner, “ Mr. Rokesmith is the bearer of a packet for Miss Bella Wilfer.”
Mr. Rokesmith followed close upon his name, and of course saw what was amiss. But he discreetly affected to see nothing, and addressed Miss Bella.
“ Mr. Boffin intended to have placed this in the carriage for you this morning. He wished you to have it, as a little keepsake he had prepared—it is only a purse, Miss Wilfer—but as he was disappointed in his fancy, I volunteered to come after you with it.”
Bella took it in her hand, and thanked him.
“We have been quarrelling here a little, Mr. Rokesmith, but not more than we used; you know our agreeable ways among ourselves. You find