'
'Indeed, Mr Mould!' cried that gentleman.
'Such affectionate regret, sir, I never saw. There is no limitation,
there is positively NO limitation'--opening his eyes wide, and standing
on tiptoe--'in point of expense! I have orders, sir, to put on my whole
establishment of mutes; and mutes come very dear, Mr Pecksniff; not to
mention their drink. To provide silver-plated handles of the very best
description, ornamented with angels' heads from the most expensive
dies. To be perfectly profuse in feathers. In short, sir, to turn out
something absolutely gorgeous.'
'My friend Mr Jonas is an excellent man,' said Mr Pecksniff.
'I have seen a good deal of what is filial in my time, sir,' retorted
Mould, 'and what is unfilial too. It is our lot. We come into the
knowledge of those secrets. But anything so filial as this; anything so
honourable to human nature; so calculated to reconcile all of us to the
world we live in; never yet came under my observation. It only
proves, sir, what was so forcibly observed by the lamented theatrical
poet--buried at Stratford--that there is good in everything.
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