a learning, nor yet they can't be alwayth a
working; they an't made for it. You mutht
have uth, Thquire. Do the withe thing and
the kind thing too, and make the betht of
uth; not the wurtht!

"And I never thought before," said Mr.
Sleary, putting his head in at the door
again to say it, " that I wath tho muth of a
Cackler!"

CHAPTER XXXVII.

IT is a dangerous thing to see anything in
the sphere of a vain blusterer, before the
vain blusterer sees it himself. Mr.
Bounderby felt that Mrs. Sparsit had audaciously
anticipated him, and presumed to be wiser
than he. Inappeasably indignant with her
for her triumphant discovery of Mrs. Pegler,
he turned this presumption, on the part of a
woman in her dependent position, over and
over in his mind, until it accumulated with
turning like a great snowball. At last he
made the discovery that to discharge this
highly-connected female—to have it in his
power to say, "She was a woman of family,
and wanted to stick to me, but I wouldn't
have it, and got rid of her"—would be to
get the utmost possible amount of crowning
glory out of the connection, and at the same
time to punish Mrs. Sparsit according to her
deserts.

Filled fuller than ever, with this great
idea, Mr. Bounderby came in to lunch, and
sat himself down in the dining-room of former
days, where his portrait was. Mrs.
Sparsit sat by the fire, with her foot in her
cotton stirrup, little thinking whither she
was posting.

Since the Pegler affair, this gentlewoman
had covered her pity for Mr. Bounderby
with a veil of quiet melancholy and contrition.
In virtue thereof, it had become her
habit to assume a woful look; which woful
look she now bestowed upon her patron.

"What's the matter now, ma'am?" said
Mr. Bounderby, in a very short, rough way.

"Pray, sir," returned Mrs. Sparsit, "do
not bite my nose off."

"Bite your nose off, ma'am!" repeated
Mr. Bouuderby. "Your nose!" meaning, as
Mrs. Sparsit conceived, that it was too
developed a nose for the purpose. After which
offensive implication, he cut himself a crust
of bread, and threw the knife down with a
noise.

Mrs. Sparsit took her foot out of her stirrup,
and said, "Mr. Bounderby, sir!"

"Well, ma'am?" retorted Mr. Bounderby.
"What are you staring at?"

"May I ask, sir," said Mrs. Sparsit, "have
you been ruffled this morning?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"May I inquire, sir," pursued the injured
woman, "whether I am the unfortunate cause
of your having lost your temper?"

"Now, I'll tell you what, ma'am," said
Bounderby, "I am not come here to be
bullied. A female may be highly connected,
but she can't be permitted to bother and
badger a man in my position, and I am not
going to put up with it." (Mr. Bounderby felt
it necessary to get on; foreseeing that if he
allowed of details, he would be beaten).

Mrs. Sparsit first elevated, then knitted,
her Coriolanian eyebrows; gathered up her
work into its proper basket; and rose.

"Sir," said she, majestically. "It is apparent
to me that I am in your way at present.
I will retire to my own apartment."

"Allow me to open the door, ma'am."

"Thank you, sir; I can do it for myself."

"You had better allow me, ma'am," said
Bounderby, passing her, and getting his hand
upon the lock; "because I can take the
opportunity of saying a word to you, before
you go. Mrs. Sparsit, ma'am, I rather think
you are cramped here, do you know? It
appears to me, that, under my humble roof,
there's hardly opening enough for a lady of
your genius in other people's affairs."

Mrs. Sparsit gave him a look of the darkest
scorn, and said with great politeness,
"Really, sir?"

"I have been thinking it over, you see,
since the late affairs have happened, ma'am,"
said Bounderby; "and it appears to my poor
judgement—"

"Oh! Pray, sir," Mrs. Sparsit interposed,
with sprightly cheerfulness, "don't disparage
your judgment. Everybody knows how unerring
Mr. Bounderby's judgment is. Everybody
has had proofs of it. It must be the
theme of general conversation. Disparage
anything in yourself but your judgment, sir,"
said Mrs. Sparsit, laughing.

Mr. Bounderby, very red and uncomfortable,
resumed:

"It appears to me, ma'am, I say, that a
different sort of establishment altogether,
would bring out a lady of your powers. Such
an establishment as your relation, Lady
Scadgers's, now. Don't you think you might
find some affairs there, ma'am, to interfere
with?"

"It never occurred to me before, sir," returned
Mrs. Sparsit; "but now you mention
it, I should think it highly probable."

"Then suppose you try, ma'am," said Bounderby,
laying an envelope with a cheque in
it, in her little basket. "You can take your
own time for going, ma'am; but perhaps in
the meanwhile, it will be more agreeable to
a lady of your powers of mind, to eat her
meals by herself, and not to be intruded
upon. I really ought to apologise to you—
being only Josiah Bounderby of Coketown—
for having stood in your light so long."

"Pray don't name it, sir," returned Mrs.
Sparsit. "If that portrait could speak, sir,
—but it has the advantage over the original
of not possessing the power of committing
itself and disgusting others,—it would
testify, that a long period has elapsed since
I first habitually addressed it as the picture