BOOK THE FIRST: THE CUP AND THE LIP
Chapter 9: Mr and Mrs Boffin in Consultation (continued)
With a ready patient face and manner, and yet with a latent smile
that showed a quick enough observation of Mrs Boffin's dress, Mr
Milvey, in his little book-room--charged with sounds and cries as
though the six children above were coming down through the
ceiling, and the roasting leg of mutton below were coming up
through the floor--listened to Mrs Boffin's statement of her want of
an orphan.
'I think,' said Mr Milvey, 'that you have never had a child of your
own, Mr and Mrs Boffin?'
Never.
'But, like the Kings and Queens in the Fairy Tales, I suppose you
have wished for one?'
In a general way, yes.
Mr Milvey smiled again, as he remarked to himself 'Those kings
and queens were always wishing for children.' It occurring to him,
perhaps, that if they had been Curates, their wishes might have
tended in the opposite direction.
'I think,' he pursued, 'we had better take Mrs Milvey into our
Council. She is indispensable to me. If you please, I'll call her.'
So, Mr Milvey called, 'Margaretta, my dear!' and Mrs Milvey came
down. A pretty, bright little woman, something worn by anxiety,
who had repressed many pretty tastes and bright fancies, and
substituted in their stead, schools, soup, flannel, coals, and all the
week-day cares and Sunday coughs of a large population, young
and old. As gallantly had Mr Milvey repressed much in himself
that naturally belonged to his old studies and old fellow-students,
and taken up among the poor and their children with the hard
crumbs of life.
'Mr and Mrs Boffin, my dear, whose good fortune you have heard
of.'
Mrs Milvey, with the most unaffected grace in the world,
congratulated them, and was glad to see them. Yet her engaging
face, being an open as well as a perceptive one, was not without
her husband's latent smile.
'Mrs Boffin wishes to adopt a little boy, my dear.'
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