“Ma’am,” said Mr. Boffin, “the Court (if I am the Court) does object. The Court objects for two reasons. First, because the Court don’t think it fair. Secondly, because the dear old lady, Mrs. Court (if I am Mr. ) gets distressed by it.”
A very remarkable wavering between two bearings—between her propitiatory bearing there, and her defiant bearing at Mr. Twemlow’s—was observable on the part of Mrs. Lammle as she said:
“What does the Court not consider fair?”
“Letting you go on,” replied Mr. Boffin, nodding his head soothingly, as who should say, we won’t be harder on you than we can help; we’ll make the best of it. “It’s not aboveboard and it’s not fair. When the old lady is uncomfortable, there’s sure to be good reason for it. I see she is uncomfortable, and I plainly see this is the good reason wherefore. Have you breakfasted, ma’am?”
Mrs. Lammle, settling into her defiant manner, pushed her plate away, looked at her husband, and laughed; but by no means gaily.
“Have you breakfasted, sir?” inquired Mr. Boffin.
“Thank you,” replied Alfred, showing all his teeth. “If Mrs. Boffin will oblige me, I’ll take another cup of tea.”
He spilled a little of it over the chest which ought to have been so effective, and which had done so little; but on the whole drank it with something of an air, though the coming and going dints got almost as large, the while, as if they had been made by pressure of the teaspoon. “A thousand thanks,” he then observed. “I have breakfasted.”
“Now, which,” said Mr. Boffin softly, taking out a pocketbook, “which of you two is cashier?”