`This is Mr. Montague,' said Jonas, whom the words appeared to choke.
`The most unhappy and most penitent of men, Mrs. Chuzzlewit,' pursued that gentleman, `for having been the means of spoiling this excursion; but as I tell my friend, the bee-hive, the bee-hive. You projected a short little continental trip, my dear friend, of course?'
Jonas maintained a dogged silence.
`May I die,' cried Montague, `but I am shocked! Upon my soul I am shocked.
But that confounded bee-hive of ours in the city must be paramount to every other consideration, when there is honey to be made; and that is my best excuse. Here is a very singular old female dropping curtseys on my right,' said Montague, breaking off in his discourse, and looking at Mrs. Gamp, `who is not a friend of mine. Does anybody know her?'
`Ah! Well they knows me, bless their precious hearts!' said Mrs Gamp, `not forgettin' your own merry one, sir, and long may it be so! Wishin' as every one' (she delivered this in the form of a toast or sentiment)
`was as merry, and as handsome-lookin', as a little bird has whispered me a certain gent is, which I will not name for fear I give offence where none is doo! My precious lady,' here she stopped short in her merriment, for she had until now affected to be vastly entertained, `you're too pale by half!'
`You are here too, are you?' muttered Jonas. `Ecod, there are enough of you.'
`I hope, sir,' returned Mrs. Gamp, dropping an indignant curtsey, `as no bones is broke by me and Mrs. Harris a-walkin' down upon a public wharf.
Which was the very words she says to me (although they was the last I ever had to speak) was these: "Sairey," she says, "is it a public wharf?" Mrs.
Harris," I makes answer, "can you doubt it? You have know'd me now, ma'am, eight and thirty year; and did you ever know me go, or wish to go, where I was not made welcome, say the words." "No, Sairey," Mrs. Harris says, "contrairy quite." And well she knows it too. I am but a poor woman, but I've been sought after, sir, though you may not think it. I've been knocked up at all hours of the night, and warned out by a many landlords, in consequence of being mistook for Fire. I goes out workin' for my bread, 'tis true, but I maintains my indepency, with your kind leave, and which I will till death. I has my feelins as a woman, sir, and I have been a mother likeways; but touch a pipkin as belongs to me, or make the least remarks on what I eats or drinks, and though you was the favouritest young for'ard hussy of a servant-gal as ever come into a house, either you leaves the place, or me. My earnins is not great, sir, but I will not be impoged upon. Bless the babe, and save the mother, is my mortar, sir; but I makes so free as add to that, Don't try no impogician with the Nuss, for she will not abear it!'
