“And so, my good and pretty,” pursued Mrs. Boffin, “you was married, and there was we hid up in the church-organ by this husband of yours; for he wouldn’t let us out with it then, as was first meant. ‘No,’ he says, ‘she’s so unselfish and contented, that I can’t afford to be rich yet. I must wait a little longer.’ Then, when baby was expected, he says, ‘She is such a cheerful, glorious housewife that I can’t afford to be rich yet. I must wait a little longer.’ Then when baby was born, he says, ‘She is so much better than she ever was, that I can’t afford to be rich yet. I must wait a little longer.’ And so he goes on and on, till I says outright, ‘Now, John, if you don’t fix a time for setting her up in her own house and home, and letting us walk out of it, I’ll turn Informer.’ Then he says he’ll only wait to triumph beyond what we ever thought possible, and to show her to us better than even we ever supposed; and he says, ‘She shall see me under suspicion of having murdered myself, and you shall see how trusting and how true she’ll be.’ Well! Noddy and me agreed to that, and he was right, and here you are, and the horses is in, and the story is done, and God bless you my Beauty, and God bless us all!”

The pile of hands dispersed, and Bella and Mrs. Boffin took a good long hug of one another: to the apparent peril of the inexhaustible baby, lying staring in Bella’s lap.

“But is the story done?” said Bella, pondering. “Is there no more of it?”

“What more of it should there be, deary?” returned Mrs. Boffin, full of glee.

“Are you sure you have left nothing out of it?” asked Bella.

“I don’t think I have,” said Mrs. Boffin, archly.

“John dear,” said Bella, “you’re a good nurse; will you please hold baby?” Having deposited the Inexhaustible in his arms with those words, Bella looked hard at Mr. Boffin, who had moved to a table where he was leaning his head upon his hand with his face turned away, and, quietly settling herself on her knees at his side, and drawing one arm over his shoulder, said: “Please I beg your pardon, and I made a small mistake of a word when I took leave of you last. Please I think you are better (not worse) than Hopkins, better (not worse) than Dancer, better (not worse) than Blackberry Jones, better (not worse) than any of them! Please something more!” cried Bella, with an exultant ringing laugh as she struggled with him and forced him to turn his delighted face to hers. “Please I have found out something not yet mentioned. Please I don’t believe you are a hard-hearted miser at all, and please I don’t believe you ever for one single minute were!”

At this, Mrs. Boffin fairly screamed with rapture, and sat beating her feet upon the floor, clapping her hands, and bobbing herself backwards and forwards, like a demented member of some Mandarin’s family.

“O, I understand you now, sir!” cried Bella. “I want neither you nor any one else to tell me the rest of the story. I can tell it to you, now, if you would like to hear it.”

“Can you, my dear?” said Mr. Boffin. “Tell it then.”

“What?” cried Bella, holding him prisoner by the coat with both hands. “When you saw what a greedy little wretch you were the patron of, you determined to show her how much misused and misprized riches could do, and often had done, to spoil people; did you? Not caring what she thought of you (and Goodness knows that was of no consequence!) you showed her, in yourself, the most detestable sides of wealth, saying in your own mind, ‘This shallow creature would never work the truth out of her own weak soul, if she had a hundred years to do it in; but a glaring instance kept before her may open even her eyes and set her thinking.’ That was what you said to yourself; was it, sir?”

“I never said anything of the sort,” Mr. Boffin declared in a state of the highest enjoyment. “Then you ought to have said it, sir,” returned Bella, giving him two pulls and one kiss, “for you must have thought and meant it. You saw that good fortune was turning my stupid head and hardening my silly heart — was making me grasping, calculating, insolent, insufferable — and you took the pains to be the dearest