“Well! Now, Noddy!” cried Mrs. Boffin, clapping her hands, “That is a good one!”

Mr. Boffin was no less delighted; indeed, in his own bosom, he regarded both the composition itself and the device that had given birth to it, as a very remarkable monument of human ingenuity.

“And I tell you, my deary,” said Mrs. Boffin, “that if you don’t close with Mr. Rokesmith now at once, and if you ever go a muddling yourself again with things never meant nor made for you, you’ll have an apoplexy⁠—besides iron-moulding your linen⁠—and you’ll break my heart.”