Lord bless you, don't lose no more
time than you can help--knock at the winder!'
Acting upon this suggestion, and borrowing the driver's whip for the
purpose, Mr Pecksniff soon made a commotion among the first floor
flower-pots, and roused Mrs Gamp, whose voice--to the great satisfaction
of the matrons--was heard to say, 'I'm coming.'
'He's as pale as a muffin,' said one lady, in allusion to Mr Pecksniff.
'So he ought to be, if he's the feelings of a man,' observed another.
A third lady (with her arms folded) said she wished he had chosen any
other time for fetching Mrs Gamp, but it always happened so with HER.
It gave Mr Pecksniff much uneasiness to find, from these remarks, that
he was supposed to have come to Mrs Gamp upon an errand touching--not
the close of life, but the other end. Mrs Gamp herself was under the
same impression, for, throwing open the window, she cried behind the
curtains, as she hastily attired herself--
'Is it Mrs Perkins?'
'No!' returned Mr Pecksniff, sharply. 'Nothing of the sort.'
'What, Mr Whilks!' cried Mrs Gamp. 'Don't say it's you, Mr Whilks, and
that poor creetur Mrs Whilks with not even a pincushion ready.
Pages:
572
573
574
575
576
577
578
579
580
581
582
583
584
585
586
587
588
589
590
591
592
593
594
595
596