But where was Merry? Mr Pecksniff didn't ask the question in reproach,
but in a vein of mildness touched with a gentle sorrow. She was
upstairs, reading on the parlour couch. Ah! Domestic details had no
charms for HER. 'But call her down,' said Mr Pecksniff, with a placid
resignation. 'Call her down, my love.'
She was called and came, all flushed and tumbled from reposing on the
sofa; but none the worse for that. No, not at all. Rather the better, if
anything.
'Oh my goodness me!' cried the arch girl, turning to her cousin when she
had kissed her father on both cheeks, and in her frolicsome nature had
bestowed a supernumerary salute upon the tip of his nose, 'YOU here,
fright! Well, I'm very thankful that you won't trouble ME much!'
'What! you're as lively as ever, are you?' said Jonas. 'Oh! You're a
wicked one!'
'There, go along!' retorted Merry, pushing him away. 'I'm sure I don't
know what I shall ever do, if I have to see much of you. Go along, for
gracious' sake!'
Mr Pecksniff striking in here, with a request that Mr Jonas would
immediately walk upstairs, he so far complied with the young lady's
adjuration as to go at once.
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