“Not exactly that, either,” replies Mrs. Chadband, humouring the joke with a hard-favored smile.
“Not exactly that, either!” repeats Mr. Guppy. “Very good. Pray, ma'am, was it a lady of your acquaintance who had some transactions (we will not at present say what transactions) with Kenge and Carboy's office, or was it a gentleman of your acquaintance? Take time, ma'am. We shall come to it presently. Man or woman, ma'am?”
“Neither,” says Mrs. Chadband, as before.
“Oh! A child!” says Mr. Guppy, throwing on the admiring Mrs. Snagsby the regular acute professional eye which is thrown on British jurymen. “Now, ma'am, perhaps you'll have the kindness to tell us what child.”
“You have got at it at last, sir,” says Mrs. Chadband, with another hard-favored smile. “Well, sir, it was before your time, most likely, judging from your appearance. I was left in charge of a child named Esther Summerson, who was put out in life by Messrs. Kenge and Carboy.”
“Miss Summerson, ma'am!” cries Mr. Guppy, excited.
“I call her Esther Summerson,” says Mrs. Chadband, with austerity. “There was no Miiss-ing of the girl in my time. It was Esther, ‘Esther, do this! Esther, do that!’ and she was made to do it.”
“My dear ma'am,” returns! Mr. Guppy, moving across the small apartment, “the humble individual who now addresses you received that young lady in London, when she first came here from the establishment to which you have alluded. Allow me to have the pleasure of taking you by the hand.”
Mr. Chadband, at last seeing his opportunity, makes his accustomed signal, and rises with a smoking head, which he dabs with his pocket-handkerchief. Mrs. Snagsby whispers “Hush!”
“My friends,” says Chadband, “we have partaken, in moderation” (which was certainly not the case so far as he was concerned), “of the comforts which have been provided for us. May this house live upon the fatness of the land; may corn and wine be plentiful therein; may it grow, may it thrive, may it prosper, may it advance, may it proceed, may it press forward! But, my friends, have we partaken of anything else? “We have. My friends, of what else have we partaken? Of spiritual profit? Yes. From whence have we derived that spiritual profit? My young friend, stand forth!”
Jo, thus apostrophised, gives a slouch backward, and another slouch forward, and another slouch to each side, and confronts the eloquent Chadband, with evident doubts of his intentions.
“My young friend,” says Chadband, “you are to us a pearl, you are to us a diamond, you are to us a gem, you are to us a jewel. And why, my young friend?”
“I don't know,” replies Jo. “I don't know nothink.”
“My young friend,” says Chadband, “it is because you know nothing that you are to us a gem and jewel. For what are you, my young friend? Are you a beast of the field? No. A bird of the air? No. A fish of the sea or river? No. You are a human boy, my young friend. A human boy. glorious to be a human boy! And why glorious, my young friend? Because you are capable of receiving the lessons of wisdom, because you are capable of profiting by this discourse which I now
