'Hope she has!' he replied. 'Oh! Don't you know she has? Don't you
know she has, Mrs Jiniwin?
'I know she ought to have, Quilp, and would have, if she was of my
way of thiniking.'
'Why an't you of your mother's way of thinking, my dear?' said the
dwarf, turing round and addressing his wife, 'why don't you always
imitate your mother, my dear? She's the ornament of her sex--your
father said so every day of his life. I am sure he did.'
'Her father was a blessed creetur, Quilp, and worthy twenty
thousand of some people,' said Mrs Jiniwin; 'twenty hundred million
thousand.'
'I should like to have known him,' remarked the dwarf. 'I dare say
he was a blessed creature then; but I'm sure he is now. It was a
happy release. I believe he had suffered a long time?'
The old lady gave a gasp, but nothing came of it; Quilp resumed,
with the same malice in his eye and the same sarcastic politeness on
his tongue.
'You look ill, Mrs Jiniwin; I know you have been exciting yourself
too much--talking perhaps, for it is your weakness. Go to bed. Do go
to bed.'
'I shall go when I please, Quilp, and not before.
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