put by a little, ma'am, already. That gratuity
which I receive at Christmas, ma'am: I never
touch it. I don't even go the length of my
wages, though they're not high, ma'am.
Why can't they do as I have done, ma'am?
What one person can do, another can do."

This, again, was among the fictions of Coketown.
Any capitalist there, who had made sixty
thousand pounds out of sixpence, always
professed to wonder why the sixty thousand
nearest Hands didn't each make sixty thousand
pounds out of sixpence, and more or
less reproached them every one for not
accomplishing the little feat. What I did,
you can do. Why don't you go and do
it?

"As to their wanting recreations, ma'am,"
said Bitzer, "it's stuff and nonsense. I don't
want recreations. I never did, and I never
shall; I don't like 'em. As to their
combining together; there are many of them, I
have no doubt, that by watching and informing
upon one another could earn a trifle now
and then, whether in money or good will, and
improve their livelihood. Then, why don't
they improve it, ma'am? It's the first
consideration of a rational creature, and it's what
they pretend to want."

"Pretend indeed!" said Mrs. Sparsit.

"I am sure we are constantly hearing,
ma'am, till it becomes quite nauseous,
concerning their wives and families," said Bitzer.
"Why look at me, ma'am! I don't want a
wife and family. Why should they?"

"Because they are improvident," said Mrs.
Sparsit.

"Yes, ma'am," returned Bitzer, "that's
where it is. If they were more provident,
and less perverse, ma'am, what would
they do? They would say, 'While my hat
covers my family,' or, 'while my bonnet
covers my family'—as the case might be,
ma'am—'I have only one to feed, and that's
the person I most like to feed.'"

"To be sure," assented Mrs. Sparsit, eating
muffin.

"Thank you, ma'am," said Bitzer, knuckling
his forehead again, in return for the
favour of Mrs. Sparsit's improving conversation.
"Would you wish a little more hot
water, ma'am, or is there anything else that
I could fetch you?"

"Nothing just now, Bitzer."

"Thank you, ma'am. I shouldn't wish to
disturb you at your meals, ma'am, particularly
tea, knowing your partiality for it," said
Bitzer, craning a little to look over into the
street from where he stood; "but there's a
gentleman been looking up here for a minute
or so, ma'am, and he has come across as if
he was going to knock. That is his knock,
ma'am, no doubt."

He stepped to the window; and looking
out, and drawing in his head again, confirmed
himself with, "Yes, ma'am. Would you wish
the gentleman to be shown in, ma'am?"

"I don't know who it can be," said Mrs.
Sparsit, wiping her mouth and arranging her
mittens.

"A stranger, ma'am, evidently."

"What a stranger can want at the Bank
at this time of the evening, unless he comes
upon some business for which he is too late,
I don't know," said Mrs. Sparsit; "but I
hold a charge in this establishment from
Mr. Bounderby, and I will never shrink from
it. If to see him is any part of the duty I
have accepted, I will see him. Use your own
discretion, Bitzer."

Here the visitor, all unconscious of Mrs.
Sparsit's magnanimous words, repeated his
knock so loudly that the light porter
hastened down to open the door; while Mrs.
Sparsit took the precaution of concealing her
little table, with all its appliances upon it, in
a cupboard, and then decamped up stairs
that she might appear, if needful, with the
greater dignity.

"If you please, ma'am, the gentleman
would wish to see you," said Bitzer, with his
light eye at Mrs. Sparsit's keyhole. So, Mrs.
Sparsit, who had improved the interval by
touching up her cap, took her classical
features down stairs again, and entered the
board room in the manner of a Roman matron
going outside the city walls to treat with an
invading general.

The visitor having strolled to the window,
and being then engaged in looking carelessly
out, was as unmoved by this impressive entry
as man could possibly be. He stood whistling
to himself with all imaginable coolness, with
his hat still on, and a certain air of exhaustion
upon him, in part arising from excessive
summer, and in part from excessive gentility.
For, it was to be seen with half an eye that he
was a thorough gentleman, made to the model
of the time; weary of everything, and putting
no more faith in anything than Lucifer.

"I believe, sir," quoth Mrs. Sparsit, "you
wished to see me."

"I beg your pardon," he said, turning and
removing his hat; "pray excuse me."

"Humph!" thought Mrs. Sparsit, as she
made a stately bend. "Five and thirty, good-
looking, good figure, good teeth, good voice,
good breeding, well dressed, dark hair, bold
eyes." All which Mrs. Sparsit observed in
her womanly way—like the Sultan who put
his head in the pail of water—merely in
dipping down and coming up again.

"Please to be seated, sir," said Mrs.
Sparsit.

"Thank you. Allow me." He placed a
chair for her, but remained himself carelessly
lounging against the table. "I left my servant
at the railway looking after the luggage
—very heavy train and vast quantity of it
in the van—and strolled on, looking about
me. Exceedingly odd place. Will you allow
me to ask you if it's always as black as
this?"

"In general much blacker," returned Mrs.
Sparsit, in her uncompromising way.