This produced, before they could get into the house, Mrs. Wilfer. Who, standing in the portal, received them with ghostly gloom, and all her other appliances of ceremony.
“My child is welcome, though unlooked for,” said she, at the time presenting her cheek as if it were a cool slate for visitors to enrol themselves upon. “You too, R. W. , are welcome, though late. Does the male domestic of Mrs. Boffin hear me there?” This deep-toned inquiry was cast forth into the night, for response from the menial in question.
“There is no one waiting, Ma, dear,” said Bella.
“There is no one waiting?” repeated Mrs. Wilfer in majestic accents.
“No, Ma, dear.”
A dignified shiver pervaded Mrs. Wilfer’s shoulders and gloves, as who should say, “An enigma!” and then she marched at the head of the procession to the family keeping-room, where she observed:
“Unless, R. W. ,” who started on being solemnly turned upon, “you have taken the precaution of making some addition to our frugal supper on your way home, it will prove but a distasteful one to Bella. Cold neck of mutton and a lettuce can ill compete with the luxuries of Mr. Boffin’s board.”
“Pray don’t talk like that, Ma dear,” said Bella; “ Mr. Boffin’s board is nothing to me.”
But, here Miss Lavinia, who had been intently eyeing Bella’s bonnet, struck in with “Why, Bella!”
“Yes, Lavvy, I know.”
The Irrepressible lowered her eyes to Bella’s dress, and stooped to look at it, exclaiming again: “Why, Bella!”