'And what's your news, Mrs Gamp?' asked Mould again, as that lady wiped
her lips upon her shawl, and nibbled a corner off a soft biscuit, which
she appeared to carry in her pocket as a provision against contingent
drams. 'How's Mr Chuffey?'
'Mr Chuffey, sir,' she replied, 'is jest as usual; he an't no better and
he an't no worse. I take it very kind in the gentleman to have wrote up
to you and said, "let Mrs Gamp take care of him till I come home;" but
ev'rythink he does is kind. There an't a many like him. If there was, we
shouldn't want no churches.'
'What do you want to speak to me about, Mrs Gamp?' said Mould, coming to
the point.
'Jest this, sir,' Mrs Gamp returned, 'with thanks to you for asking.
There IS a gent, sir, at the Bull in Holborn, as has been took ill
there, and is bad abed. They have a day nurse as was recommended from
Bartholomew's; and well I knows her, Mr Mould, her name bein' Mrs Prig,
the best of creeturs. But she is otherways engaged at night, and they
are in wants of night-watching; consequent she says to them, having
reposed the greatest friendliness in me for twenty year, "The soberest
person going, and the best of blessings in a sick room, is Mrs Gamp.
Pages:
749
750
751
752
753
754
755
756
757
758
759
760
761
762
763
764
765
766
767
768
769
770
771
772
773