BOOK THE FOURTH: A TURNING
Chapter 2: The Golden Dustman Rises a Little (continued)
'Oh, thank you, thank you!' cried Georgiana. 'If my maid had a
little note and half a crown, I could run round to the pastrycook's
to sign something, or I could sign something in the Square if
somebody would come and cough for me to let 'em in with the key,
and would bring a pen and ink with 'em and a bit of blotting-paper.
Oh, my gracious! I must tear myself away, or Pa and Ma will both
find out! Dear, dear Sophronia, good, good-bye!'
The credulous little creature again embraced Mrs Lammle most
affectionately, and then held out her hand to Mr Lammle.
'Good-bye, dear Mr Lammle--I mean Alfred. You won't think after
to-day that I have deserted you and Sophronia because you have
been brought low in the world, will you? Oh me! oh me! I have
been crying my eyes out of my head, and Ma will he sure to ask me
what's the matter. Oh, take me down, somebody, please, please,
please!'
Mr Boffin took her down, and saw her driven away, with her poor
little red eyes and weak chin peering over the great apron of the
custard-coloured phaeton, as if she had been ordered to expiate
some childish misdemeanour by going to bed in the daylight, and
were peeping over the counterpane in a miserable flutter of
repentance and low spirits. Returning to the breakfast-room, he
found Mrs Lammle still standing on her side of the table, and Mr
Lammle on his.
'I'll take care,' said Mr Boffin, showing the money and the
necklace, 'that these are soon given back.'
Mrs Lammle had taken up her parasol from a side table, and stood
sketching with it on the pattern of the damask cloth, as she had
sketched on the pattern of Mr Twemlow's papered wall.
'You will not undeceive her I hope, Mr Boffin?' she said, turning
her head towards him, but not her eyes.
'No,' said Mr Boffin.
'I mean, as to the worth and value of her friend,' Mrs Lammle
explained, in a measured voice, and with an emphasis on her last
word.
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