'It's a pity that you don't know wot you
say, for you'd tire your own patience out if you did, and fret yourself
into a happy releage for all as knows you.'
'His son,' murmured the old man, lifting up his hand. 'His son!'
'Well, I'm sure!' said Mrs Gamp, 'you're a-settlin' of it, Mr Chuffey.
To your satigefaction, sir, I hope. But I wouldn't lay a new pincushion
on it myself, sir, though you ARE so well informed. Drat the old
creetur, he's a-layin' down the law tolerable confident, too! A deal he
knows of sons! or darters either! Suppose you was to favour us with some
remarks on twins, sir, WOULD you be so good!'
The bitter and indignant sarcasm which Mrs Gamp conveyed into these
taunts was altogether lost on the unconscious Chuffey, who appeared to
be as little cognizant of their delivery as of his having given Mrs
Gamp offence. But that high-minded woman being sensitively alive to any
invasion of her professional province, and imagining that Mr Chuffey had
given utterance to some prediction on the subject of sons, which ought
to have emanated in the first instance from herself as the only lawful
authority, or which should at least have been on no account proclaimed
without her sanction and concurrence, was not so easily appeased.
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