CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
IN WHICH MRS HARRIS ASSISTED BY A TEAPOT, IS THE CAUSE OF A DIVISIONBETWEEN FRIENDS
Mrs Gamp's apartment in Kingsgate Street, High Holborn, wore,metaphorically speaking, a robe of state. It was swept and garnished forthe reception of a visitor. That visitor was Betsey Prig; Mrs Prig, ofBartlemy's; or as some said Barklemy's, or as some said Bardlemy's; forby all these endearing and familiar appellations, had the hospital ofSaint Bartholomew become a household word among the sisterhood whichBetsey Prig adorned.
Mrs Gamp's apartment was not a spacious one, but, to a contented mind,a closet is a palace; and the first-floor front at Mr Sweedlepipe's mayhave been, in the imagination of Mrs Gamp, a stately pile. If it werenot exactly that, to restless intellects, it at least comprised as muchaccommodation as any person, not sanguine to insanity, could have lookedfor in a room of its dimensions. For only keep the bedstead always inyour mind; and you were safe. That was the grand secret. Remembering thebedstead, you might even stoop to look under the little round tablefor anything you had dropped, without hurting yourself much against thechest of drawers, or qualifying as a patient of Saint Bartholomew, byfalling into the fire.
Visitors were much assisted in their cautious efforts to preserve anunflagging recollection of this piece of furniture, by its size; whichwas great. It was not a turn-up bedstead, nor yet a French bedstead,nor yet a four-post bedstead, but what is poetically called a tent; thesacking whereof was low and bulgy, insomuch that Mrs Gamp's box wouldnot go under it, but stopped half-way, in a manner which, while it didviolence to the reason, likewise endangered the legs of a stranger. Theframe too, which would have supported the canopy and hangings if therehad been any, was ornamented with divers pippins carved in timber,which on the slightest provocation, and frequently on none at all, cametumbling down; harassing the peaceful guest with inexplicable terrors.
The bed itself was decorated with a patchwork quilt of great antiquity;and at the upper end, upon the side nearest to the door, hung a scantycurtain of blue check, which prevented the Zephyrs that were abroad inKingsgate Street, from visiting Mrs Gamp's head too roughly. Some rustygowns and other articles of that lady's wardrobe depended from theposts; and these had so adapted themselves by long usage to her figure,that more than one impatient husband coming in precipitately, at aboutthe time of twilight, had been for an instant stricken dumb by thesupposed discovery that Mrs Gamp had hanged herself. One gentleman,coming on the usual hasty errand, had said indeed, that they looked likeguardian angels 'watching of her in her sleep.' But that, as Mrs Gampsaid, 'was his first;' and he never repeated the sentiment, though heoften repeated his visit.
The chairs in Mrs Gamp's apartment were extremely large andbroad-backed, which was more than a sufficient reason for there beingbut two in number. They were both elbow-chairs, of ancient mahogany; andwere chiefly valuable for the slippery nature of their seats, which hadbeen originally horsehair, but were now covered with a shiny substanceof a bluish tint, from which the visitor began to slide away with adismayed countenance, immediately after sitting down. What Mrs Gampwanted in chairs she made up in bandboxes; of which she had a greatcollection, devoted to the reception of various miscellaneous valuables,which were not, however, as well protected as the good woman, by apleasant fiction, seemed to think; for, though every bandbox had acarefully closed lid, not one among them had a bottom; owing to whichcause the property within was merely, as it were, extinguished. Thechest of drawers having been originally made to stand upon the top ofanother chest, had a dwarfish, elfin look, alone; but in regard of itssecurity it had a great advantage over the bandboxes, for as all thehandles had been long ago pulled off, it was very difficult to get atits contents. This indeed was only to be done by one or two devices;either by tilting the whole structure forward until all the drawers fellout together, or by opening them singly with knives, like oysters.
Mrs Gamp stored all her household matters in a little cupboard by thefire-place; beginning below the surface (as in nature) with the coals,and mounting gradually upwards to the spirits, which, from motives ofdelicacy, she kept in a teapot. The chimney-piece was ornamented witha small almanack, marked here and there in Mrs Gamp's own hand with amemorandum of the date at which some lady was expected to fall due. Itwas also embellished with three profiles: one, in colours, of Mrs Gampherself in early life; one, in bronze, of a lady in feathers, supposedto be Mrs Harris, as she appeared when dressed for a ball; and one, inblack, of Mr Gamp, deceased. The last was a full length, in orderthat the likeness might be rendered more obvious and forcible by theintroduction of the wooden leg.
A pair of bellows, a pair of pattens, a toasting-fork, a kettle, apap-boat, a spoon for the administration of medicine to the refractory,and lastly, Mrs Gamp's umbrella, which as something of great priceand rarity, was displayed with particular ostentation, completed thedecorations of the chimney-piece and adjacent wall. Towards theseobjects Mrs Gamp raised her eyes in satisfaction when she had arrangedthe tea-board, and had concluded her arrangements for the receptionof Betsey Prig, even unto the setting forth of two pounds of Newcastlesalmon, intensely pickled.
'There! Now drat you, Betsey, don't be long!' said Mrs Gamp,apostrophizing her absent friend. 'For I can't abear to wait, I doassure you. To wotever place I goes, I sticks to this one mortar, "I'measy pleased; it is but little as I wants; but I must have that littleof the best, and to the minute when the clock strikes, else we do notpart as I could wish, but bearin' malice in our arts."'
Her own preparations were of the best, for they comprehended a delicatenew loaf, a plate of fresh butter, a basin of fine white sugar, andother arrangements on the same scale. Even the snuff with which shenow refreshed herself, was so choice in quality that she took a secondpinch.
'There's the little bell a-ringing now,' said Mrs Gamp, hurrying tothe stair-head and looking over. 'Betsey Prig, my--why it's that theredisapintin' Sweedlepipes, I do believe.'
'Yes, it's me,' said the barber in a faint voice; 'I've just come in.'
'You're always a-comin' in, I think,' muttered Mrs Gamp to herself,'except wen you're a-goin' out. I ha'n't no patience with that man!'
'Mrs Gamp,' said the barber. 'I say! Mrs Gamp!'
'Well,' cried Mrs Gamp, impatiently, as she descended the stairs. 'Whatis it? Is the Thames a-fire, and cooking its own fish, Mr Sweedlepipes?Why wot's the man gone and been a-doin' of to himself? He's as white aschalk!'
She added the latter clause of inquiry, when she got downstairs, andfound him seated in the shaving-chair, pale and disconsolate.
'You recollect,' said Poll. 'You recollect young--'
'Not young Wilkins!' cried Mrs Gamp. 'Don't say young Wilkins, woteveryou do. If young Wilkins's wife is took--'
'It isn't anybody's wife,' exclaimed the little barber. 'Bailey, youngBailey!'
'Why, wot do you mean to say that chit's been a-doin' of?' retorted MrsGamp, sharply. 'Stuff and nonsense, Mrs Sweedlepipes!'
'He hasn't been a-doing anything!' exclaimed poor Poll, quite desperate.'What do you catch me up so short for, when you see me put out to thatextent that I can hardly speak? He'll never do anything again. He's donefor. He's killed. The first time I ever see that boy,' said Poll, 'Icharged him too much for a red-poll. I asked him three-halfpence for apenny one, because I was afraid he'd beat me down. But he didn't.And now he's dead; and if you was to crowd all the steam-engines andelectric fluids that ever was, into this shop, and set 'em every one towork their hardest, they couldn't square the account, though it's only aha'penny!'
Mr Sweedlepipe turned aside to the towel, and wiped his eyes with it.
'And what a clever boy he was!' he said. 'What a surprising young chaphe was! How he talked! and what a deal he know'd! Shaved in this verychair he was; only for fun; it was all his fun; he was full of it. Ah!to think that he'll never be shaved in earnest! The birds might everyone have died, and welcome,' cried the little barber, looking round himat the cages, and again applying to the towel, 'so
oner than I'd haveheard this news!'
'How did you ever come to hear it?' said Mrs Gamp, 'who told you?'
'I went out,' returned the little barber, 'into the City, to meet asporting gent upon the Stock Exchange, that wanted a few slow pigeons topractice at; and when I'd done with him, I went to get a little dropof beer, and there I heard everybody a-talking about it. It's in thepapers.'
'You are in a nice state of confugion, Mr Sweedlepipes, you are!' saidMrs Gamp, shaking her head; 'and my opinion is, as half-a-dudgeon freshyoung lively leeches on your temples, wouldn't be too much to clear yourmind, which so I tell you. Wot were they a-talkin' on, and wot was inthe papers?'
'All about it!' cried the barber. 'What else do you suppose? Him and hismaster were upset on a journey, and he was carried to Salisbury, andwas breathing his last when the account came away. He never spokeafterwards. Not a single word. That's the worst of it to me; but thatain't all. His master can't be found. The other manager of their officein the city, Crimple, David Crimple, has gone off with the money, and isadvertised for, with a reward, upon the walls. Mr Montague, poor youngBailey's master (what a boy he was!) is advertised for, too. Some sayhe's slipped off, to join his friend abroad; some say he mayn't have gotaway yet; and they're looking for him high and low. Their office is asmash; a swindle altogether. But what's a Life Assurance office to aLife! And what a Life Young Bailey's was!'
'He was born into a wale,' said Mrs Gamp, with philosophical coolness.'and he lived in a wale; and he must take the consequences of sech asitiwation. But don't you hear nothink of Mr Chuzzlewit in all this?'
'No,' said Poll, 'nothing to speak of. His name wasn't printed as one ofthe board, though some people say it was just going to be. Some believehe was took in, and some believe he was one of the takers-in; buthowever that may be, they can't prove nothing against him. This morninghe went up of his own accord afore the Lord Mayor or some of them Citybig-wigs, and complained that he'd been swindled, and that these twopersons had gone off and cheated him, and that he had just found outthat Montague's name wasn't even Montague, but something else. And theydo say that he looked like Death, owing to his losses. But, Lordforgive me,' cried the barber, coming back again to the subject ofhis individual grief, 'what's his looks to me! He might have died andwelcome, fifty times, and not been such a loss as Bailey!'
At this juncture the little bell rang, and the deep voice of Mrs Prigstruck into the conversation.
'Oh! You're a-talkin' about it, are you!' observed that lady. 'Well, Ihope you've got it over, for I ain't interested in it myself.'
'My precious Betsey,' said Mrs Gamp, 'how late you are!'
The worthy Mrs Prig replied, with some asperity, 'that if perwersepeople went off dead, when they was least expected, it warn't no faultof her'n.' And further, 'that it was quite aggrawation enough to be madelate when one was dropping for one's tea, without hearing on it again.'
Mrs Gamp, deriving from this exhibition of repartee some clue to thestate of Mrs Prig's feelings, instantly conducted her upstairs; deemingthat the sight of pickled salmon might work a softening change.
But Betsey Prig expected pickled salmon. It was obvious that she did;for her first words, after glancing at the table, were:
'I know'd she wouldn't have a cowcumber!'
Mrs Gamp changed colour, and sat down upon the bedstead.
'Lord bless you, Betsey Prig, your words is true. I quite forgot it!'
Mrs Prig, looking steadfastly at her friend, put her hand in herpocket, and with an air of surly triumph drew forth either the oldest oflettuces or youngest of cabbages, but at any rate, a green vegetable ofan expansive nature, and of such magnificent proportions that she wasobliged to shut it up like an umbrella before she could pull it out.She also produced a handful of mustard and cress, a trifle of the herbcalled dandelion, three bunches of radishes, an onion rather larger thanan average turnip, three substantial slices of beetroot, and a shortprong or antler of celery; the whole of this garden-stuff having beenpublicly exhibited, but a short time before, as a twopenny salad, andpurchased by Mrs Prig on condition that the vendor could get it all intoher pocket. Which had been happily accomplished, in High Holborn, tothe breathless interest of a hackney-coach stand. And she laid so littlestress on this surprising forethought, that she did not even smile, butreturning her pocket into its accustomed sphere, merely recommendedthat these productions of nature should be sliced up, for immediateconsumption, in plenty of vinegar.
'And don't go a-droppin' none of your snuff in it,' said Mrs Prig.'In gruel, barley-water, apple-tea, mutton-broth, and that, it don'tsignify. It stimulates a patient. But I don't relish it myself.'
'Why, Betsey Prig!' cried Mrs Gamp, 'how CAN you talk so!'
'Why, ain't your patients, wotever their diseases is, always asneezin'their wery heads off, along of your snuff?' said Mrs Prig.
'And wot if they are!' said Mrs Gamp
'Nothing if they are,' said Mrs Prig. 'But don't deny it, Sairah.'
'Who deniges of it?' Mrs Gamp inquired.
Mrs Prig returned no answer.
'WHO deniges of it, Betsey?' Mrs Gamp inquired again. Then Mrs Gamp, byreversing the question, imparted a deeper and more awful character ofsolemnity to the same. 'Betsey, who deniges of it?'
It was the nearest possible approach to a very decided difference ofopinion between these ladies; but Mrs Prig's impatience for the mealbeing greater at the moment than her impatience of contradiction, shereplied, for the present, 'Nobody, if you don't, Sairah,' and preparedherself for tea. For a quarrel can be taken up at any time, but alimited quantity of salmon cannot.
Her toilet was simple. She had merely to 'chuck' her bonnet and shawlupon the bed; give her hair two pulls, one upon the right side and oneupon the left, as if she were ringing a couple of bells; and all wasdone. The tea was already made, Mrs Gamp was not long over the salad,and they were soon at the height of their repast.
The temper of both parties was improved, for the time being, by theenjoyments of the table. When the meal came to a termination (which itwas pretty long in doing), and Mrs Gamp having cleared away, producedthe teapot from the top shelf, simultaneously with a couple ofwine-glasses, they were quite amiable.
'Betsey,' said Mrs Gamp, filling her own glass and passing the teapot,'I will now propoge a toast. My frequent pardner, Betsey Prig!'
'Which, altering the name to Sairah Gamp; I drink,' said Mrs Prig, 'withlove and tenderness.'
From this moment symptoms of inflammation began to lurk in the nose ofeach lady; and perhaps, notwithstanding all appearances to the contrary,in the temper also.
'Now, Sairah,' said Mrs Prig, 'joining business with pleasure, wot isthis case in which you wants me?'
Mrs Gamp betraying in her face some intention of returning an evasiveanswer, Betsey added:
'IS it Mrs Harris?'
'No, Betsey Prig, it ain't,' was Mrs Gamp's reply.
'Well!' said Mrs Prig, with a short laugh. 'I'm glad of that, at anyrate.'
'Why should you be glad of that, Betsey?' Mrs Gamp retorted, warmly.'She is unbeknown to you except by hearsay, why should you be glad? Ifyou have anythink to say contrairy to the character of Mrs Harris, whichwell I knows behind her back, afore her face, or anywheres, is not to beimpeaged, out with it, Betsey. I have know'd that sweetest and best ofwomen,' said Mrs Gamp, shaking her head, and shedding tears, 'ever sinceafore her First, which Mr Harris who was dreadful timid went and stoppedhis ears in a empty dog-kennel, and never took his hands away or comeout once till he was showed the baby, wen bein' took with fits, thedoctor collared him and laid him on his back upon the airy stones, andshe was told to ease her mind, his owls was organs. And I have know'dher, Betsey Prig, when he has hurt her feelin' art by sayin' of hisNinth that it was one too many, if not two, while that dear innocent wascooin' in his face, which thrive it did though bandy, but I have neverknow'd as you had occagion to be glad, Betsey, on accounts of Mrs Harrisnot requiring you. Require she never will, depend up
on it, for herconstant words in sickness is, and will be, "Send for Sairey?"'
During this touching address, Mrs Prig adroitly feigning to be thevictim of that absence of mind which has its origin in excessiveattention to one topic, helped herself from the teapot without appearingto observe it. Mrs Gamp observed it, however, and came to a prematureclose in consequence.
'Well, it ain't her, it seems,' said Mrs Prig, coldly; 'who is it then?'
'You have heerd me mention, Betsey,' Mrs Gamp replied, after glancing inan expressive and marked manner at the tea-pot, 'a person as I tookcare on at the time as you and me was pardners off and on, in that therefever at the Bull?'
'Old Snuffey,' Mrs Prig observed.
Sarah Gamp looked at her with an eye of fire, for she saw in thismistake of Mrs Prig, another willful and malignant stab at that sameweakness or custom of hers, an ungenerous allusion to which, on the partof Betsey, had first disturbed their harmony that evening. And she sawit still more clearly, when, politely but firmly correcting that ladyby the distinct enunciation of the word 'Chuffey,' Mrs Prig received thecorrection with a diabolical laugh.
The best among us have their failings, and it must be conceded of MrsPrig, that if there were a blemish in the goodness of her disposition,it was a habit she had of not bestowing all its sharp and acidproperties upon her patients (as a thoroughly amiable woman would havedone), but of keeping a considerable remainder for the service of herfriends. Highly pickled salmon, and lettuces chopped up in vinegar,may, as viands possessing some acidity of their own, have encouraged andincreased this failing in Mrs Prig; and every application to the teapotcertainly did; for it was often remarked of her by her friends, thatshe was most contradictory when most elevated. It is certain that hercountenance became about this time derisive and defiant, and that shesat with her arms folded, and one eye shut up, in a somewhat offensive,because obstrusively intelligent, manner.
Mrs Gamp observing this, felt it the more necessary that Mrs Prig shouldknow her place, and be made sensible of her exact station in society, aswell as of her obligations to herself. She therefore assumed an air ofgreater patronage and importance, as she went on to answer Mrs Prig alittle more in detail.
'Mr Chuffey, Betsey,' said Mrs Gamp, 'is weak in his mind. Excuge meif I makes remark, that he may neither be so weak as people thinks, norpeople may not think he is so weak as they pretends, and what I knows,I knows; and what you don't, you don't; so do not ask me, Betsey. But MrChuffey's friends has made propojals for his bein' took care on, and hassaid to me, "Mrs Gamp, WILL you undertake it? We couldn't think," theysays, "of trusting him to nobody but you, for, Sairey, you are gold ashas passed the furnage. Will you undertake it, at your own price, dayand night, and by your own self?" "No," I says, "I will not. Do notreckon on it. There is," I says, "but one creetur in the world as I wouldundertake on sech terms, and her name is Harris. But," I says, "Iam acquainted with a friend, whose name is Betsey Prig, that I canrecommend, and will assist me. Betsey," I says, "is always to be trustedunder me, and will be guided as I could desire."'
Here Mrs Prig, without any abatement of her offensive manner againcounterfeited abstraction of mind, and stretched out her hand to theteapot. It was more than Mrs Gamp could bear. She stopped the hand ofMrs Prig with her own, and said, with great feeling:
'No, Betsey! Drink fair, wotever you do!'
Mrs Prig, thus baffled, threw herself back in her chair, and closing thesame eye more emphatically, and folding her arms tighter, suffered herhead to roll slowly from side to side, while she surveyed her friendwith a contemptuous smile.
Mrs Gamp resumed:
'Mrs Harris, Betsey--'
'Bother Mrs Harris!' said Betsey Prig.
Mrs Gamp looked at her with amazement, incredulity, and indignation;when Mrs Prig, shutting her eye still closer, and folding her arms stilltighter, uttered these memorable and tremendous words:
'I don't believe there's no sich a person!'
After the utterance of which expressions, she leaned forward, andsnapped her fingers once, twice, thrice; each time nearer to the face ofMrs Gamp, and then rose to put on her bonnet, as one who felt that therewas now a gulf between them, which nothing could ever bridge across.
The shock of this blow was so violent and sudden, that Mrs Gamp satstaring at nothing with uplifted eyes, and her mouth open as if shewere gasping for breath, until Betsey Prig had put on her bonnet andher shawl, and was gathering the latter about her throat. Then Mrs Gamprose--morally and physically rose--and denounced her.
'What!' said Mrs Gamp, 'you bage creetur, have I know'd Mrs Harris fiveand thirty year, to be told at last that there ain't no sech a personlivin'! Have I stood her friend in all her troubles, great and small,for it to come at last to sech a end as this, which her own sweet picterhanging up afore you all the time, to shame your Bragian words! But wellyou mayn't believe there's no sech a creetur, for she wouldn't demeanherself to look at you, and often has she said, when I have made mentionof your name, which, to my sinful sorrow, I have done, "What, SaireyGamp! debage yourself to HER!" Go along with you!'
'I'm a-goin', ma'am, ain't I?' said Mrs Prig, stopping as she said it.
'You had better, ma'am,' said Mrs Gamp.
'Do you know who you're talking to, ma'am?' inquired her visitor.
'Aperiently,' said Mrs Gamp, surveying her with scorn from head to foot,'to Betsey Prig. Aperiently so. I know her. No one better. Go along withyou!'
'And YOU was a-goin' to take me under you!' cried Mrs Prig, surveyingMrs Gamp from head to foot in her turn. 'YOU was, was you? Oh, how kind!Why, deuce take your imperence,' said Mrs Prig, with a rapid change frombanter to ferocity, 'what do you mean?'
'Go along with you!' said Mrs Gamp. 'I blush for you.'
'You had better blush a little for yourself, while you ARE about it!'said Mrs Prig. 'You and your Chuffeys! What, the poor old creetur isn'tmad enough, isn't he? Aha!'
'He'd very soon be mad enough, if you had anything to do with him,' saidMrs Gamp.
'And that's what I was wanted for, is it?' cried Mrs Prig, triumphantly.'Yes. But you'll find yourself deceived. I won't go near him. We shallsee how you get on without me. I won't have nothink to do with him.'
'You never spoke a truer word than that!' said Mrs Gamp. 'Go along withyou!'
She was prevented from witnessing the actual retirement of Mrs Prig fromthe room, notwithstanding the great desire she had expressed to beholdit, by that lady, in her angry withdrawal, coming into contact with thebedstead, and bringing down the previously mentioned pippins; three orfour of which came rattling on the head of Mrs Gamp so smartly, thatwhen she recovered from this wooden shower-bath, Mrs Prig was gone.
She had the satisfaction, however, of hearing the deep voice of Betsey,proclaiming her injuries and her determination to have nothing to dowith Mr Chuffey, down the stairs, and along the passage, and even out inKingsgate Street. Likewise of seeing in her own apartment, in the placeof Mrs Prig, Mr Sweedlepipe and two gentlemen.
'Why, bless my life!' exclaimed the little barber, 'what's amiss? Thenoise you ladies have been making, Mrs Gamp! Why, these two gentlemenhave been standing on the stairs, outside the door, nearly all the time,trying to make you hear, while you were pelting away, hammer and tongs!It'll be the death of the little bullfinch in the shop, that draws hisown water. In his fright, he's been a-straining himself all to bits,drawing more water than he could drink in a twelvemonth. He must havethought it was Fire!'
Mrs Gamp had in the meanwhile sunk into her chair, from whence, turningup her overflowing eyes, and clasping her hands, she delivered thefollowing lamentation:
'Oh, Mr Sweedlepipes, which Mr Westlock also, if my eyes do not deceive,and a friend not havin' the pleasure of bein' beknown, wot I have tookfrom Betsey Prig this blessed night, no mortial creetur knows! If shehad abuged me, bein' in liquor, which I thought I smelt her wen shecome, but could not so believe, not bein' used myself'--Mrs Gamp, by theway, was pretty far gone, and the fragrance of the
teapot was strong inthe room--'I could have bore it with a thankful art. But the words shespoke of Mrs Harris, lambs could not forgive. No, Betsey!' said MrsGamp, in a violent burst of feeling, 'nor worms forget!'
The little barber scratched his head, and shook it, and looked at theteapot, and gradually got out of the room. John Westlock, taking achair, sat down on one side of Mrs Gamp. Martin, taking the foot of thebed, supported her on the other.
'You wonder what we want, I daresay,' observed John. 'I'll tell youpresently, when you have recovered. It's not pressing, for a few minutesor so. How do you find yourself? Better?'
Mrs Gamp shed more tears, shook her head and feebly pronounced MrsHarris's name.
'Have a little--' John was at a loss what to call it.
'Tea,' suggested Martin.
'It ain't tea,' said Mrs Gamp.
'Physic of some sort, I suppose,' cried John. 'Have a little.'
Mrs Gamp was prevailed upon to take a glassful. 'On condition,' shepassionately observed, 'as Betsey never has another stroke of work fromme.'
'Certainly not,' said John. 'She shall never help to nurse ME.'
'To think,' said Mrs Gamp, 'as she should ever have helped to nuss thatfriend of yourn, and been so near of hearing things that--Ah!'
John looked at Martin.
'Yes,' he said. 'That was a narrow escape, Mrs Gamp.'
'Narrer, in-deed!' she returned. 'It was only my having the night, andhearin' of him in his wanderins; and her the day, that saved it. Wotwould she have said and done, if she had know'd what I know; thatperfeejus wretch! Yet, oh good gracious me!' cried Mrs Gamp, tramplingon the floor, in the absence of Mrs Prig, 'that I should hear from thatsame woman's lips what I have heerd her speak of Mrs Harris!'
'Never mind,' said John. 'You know it is not true.'
'Isn't true!' cried Mrs Gamp. 'True! Don't I know as that dear womanis expecting of me at this minnit, Mr Westlock, and is a-lookin' out ofwindow down the street, with little Tommy Harris in her arms, as callsme his own Gammy, and truly calls, for bless the mottled little legsof that there precious child (like Canterbury Brawn his own dear fathersays, which so they are) his own I have been, ever since I found him,Mr Westlock, with his small red worsted shoe a-gurglin' in his throat,where he had put it in his play, a chick, wile they was leavin' ofhim on the floor a-lookin' for it through the ouse and him a-choakin'sweetly in the parlour! Oh, Betsey Prig, what wickedness you've showedthis night, but never shall you darken Sairey's doors agen, you twiningserpiant!'
'You were always so kind to her, too!' said John, consolingly.
'That's the cutting part. That's where it hurts me, Mr Westlock,' MrsGamp replied; holding out her glass unconsciously, while Martin filledit.
'Chosen to help you with Mr Lewsome!' said John. 'Chosen to help youwith Mr Chuffey!'
'Chose once, but chose no more,' cried Mrs Gamp. 'No pardnership withBetsey Prig agen, sir!'
'No, no,' said John. 'That would never do.'
'I don't know as it ever would have done, sir,' Mrs Gamp replied, witha solemnity peculiar to a certain stage of intoxication. 'Now that themarks,' by which Mrs Gamp is supposed to have meant mask, 'is offthat creetur's face, I do not think it ever would have done. Thereare reagions in families for keeping things a secret, Mr Westlock, andhavin' only them about you as you knows you can repoge in. Who couldrepoge in Betsey Prig, arter her words of Mrs Harris, setting in thatchair afore my eyes!'
'Quite true,' said John; 'quite. I hope you have time to find anotherassistant, Mrs Gamp?'
Between her indignation and the teapot, her powers of comprehending whatwas said to her began to fail. She looked at John with tearful eyes, andmurmuring the well-remembered name which Mrs Prig had challenged--as ifit were a talisman against all earthly sorrows--seemed to wander in hermind.
'I hope,' repeated John, 'that you have time to find another assistant?'
'Which short it is, indeed,' cried Mrs Gamp, turning up her languideyes, and clasping Mr Westlock's wrist with matronly affection.'To-morrow evenin', sir, I waits upon his friends. Mr Chuzzlewit apintedit from nine to ten.'
'From nine to ten,' said John, with a significant glance at Martin. 'andthen Mr Chuffey retires into safe keeping, does he?'
'He needs to be kep safe, I do assure you,' Mrs Gamp replied with amysterious air. 'Other people besides me has had a happy deliverancefrom Betsey Prig. I little know'd that woman. She'd have let it out!'
'Let HIM out, you mean,' said John.
'Do I!' retorted Mrs Gamp. 'Oh!'
The severely ironical character of this reply was strengthened by a veryslow nod, and a still slower drawing down of the corners of Mrs Gamp'smouth. She added with extreme stateliness of manner after indulging in ashort doze:
'But I am a-keepin' of you gentlemen, and time is precious.'
Mingling with that delusion of the teapot which inspired her withthe belief that they wanted her to go somewhere immediately, a shrewdavoidance of any further reference to the topics into which she hadlately strayed, Mrs Gamp rose; and putting away the teapot in itsaccustomed place, and locking the cupboard with much gravity proceededto attire herself for a professional visit.
This preparation was easily made, as it required nothing more thanthe snuffy black bonnet, the snuffy black shawl, the pattens andthe indispensable umbrella, without which neither a lying-in nor alaying-out could by any possibility be attempted. When Mrs Gamp hadinvested herself with these appendages she returned to her chair, andsitting down again, declared herself quite ready.
'It's a 'appiness to know as one can benefit the poor sweet creetur,'she observed, 'I'm sure. It isn't all as can. The torters Betsey Priginflicts is frightful!'
Closing her eyes as she made this remark, in the acuteness of hercommiseration for Betsey's patients, she forgot to open them again untilshe dropped a patten. Her nap was also broken at intervals like thefabled slumbers of Friar Bacon, by the dropping of the other patten,and of the umbrella. But when she had got rid of those incumbrances, hersleep was peaceful.
The two young men looked at each other, ludicrously enough; and Martin,stifling his disposition to laugh, whispered in John Westlock's ear,
'What shall we do now?'
'Stay here,' he replied.
Mrs Gamp was heard to murmur 'Mrs Harris' in her sleep.
'Rely upon it,' whispered John, looking cautiously towards her, 'thatyou shall question this old clerk, though you go as Mrs Harris herself.We know quite enough to carry her our own way now, at all events; thanksto this quarrel, which confirms the old saying that when rogues fallout, honest people get what they want. Let Jonas Chuzzlewit look tohimself; and let her sleep as long as she likes. We shall gain our endin good time.'