“Mama!” cried the child sobbing aloud. “Oh dear Mama! oh dear Mama!”
The Doctor gently brushed the scattered ringlets of the child, aside from the face and mouth of the mother. Alas how calm they lay there; how little breath there was to stir them!
Thus, clinging fast to that slight spar within her arms, the mother drifted out upon the dark and unknown sea that rolls round all the world.
II
In Which Timely Provision Is Made for an Emergency That Will Sometimes Arise in the Best-Regulated Families
“I shall never cease to congratulate myself,” said Mrs. Chick, “on having said, when I little thought what was in store for us—really as if I was inspired by something—that I forgave poor dear Fanny everything. Whatever happens, that must always be a comfort to me!”
Mrs. Chick made this impressive observation in the drawing-room, after having descended thither from the inspection of the mantua-makers upstairs, who were busy on the family mourning. She delivered it for the behoof of Mr. Chick, who was a stout bald gentleman, with a very large face, and his hands continually in his pockets, and who had a tendency in his nature to whistle and hum tunes, which, sensible of the indecorum of such sounds in a house of grief, he was at some pains to repress at present.
“Don’t you overexert yourself, Loo,” said Mr. Chick, “or you’ll be laid up with spasms, I see. Right tol loor rul! Bless my soul, I forgot! We’re here one day and gone the next!”
Mrs. Chick contented herself with a glance of reproof, and then proceeded with the thread of her discourse.
“I am sure,” she said, “I hope this heartrending occurrence will be a warning to all of us, to accustom ourselves to rouse ourselves, and to make efforts in time where they’re required of us. There’s a moral in everything, if we would only avail ourselves of it. It will be our own faults if we lose sight of this one.”
Mr. Chick invaded the grave silence which ensued on this remark with the singularly inappropriate air of “A cobbler there was;” and checking himself, in some confusion, observed, that it was undoubtedly our own faults if we didn’t improve such melancholy occasions as the present.
“Which might be better improved, I should think, Mr. C.,” retorted his helpmate, after a short pause, “than by the introduction, either of the college hornpipe, or the equally unmeaning and unfeeling remark of rump-te-iddity, bow-wow-wow!”—which Mr. Chick had indeed indulged in, under his breath, and which Mrs. Chick repeated in a tone of withering scorn.
“Merely habit, my dear,” pleaded Mr. Chick.
“Nonsense! Habit!” returned his wife. “If you’re a rational being, don’t make such ridiculous excuses. Habit! If I was to get a habit (as you call it) of walking on the ceiling, like the flies, I should hear enough of it, I daresay.”
It appeared so probable that such a habit might be attended with some degree of notoriety, that Mr. Chick didn’t venture to dispute the position.
“How’s the Baby, Loo?” asked Mr. Chick: to change the subject.
“What Baby do you mean?” answered Mrs. Chick. “I am sure the morning I have had, with that dining-room downstairs, one mass of babies, no one in their senses would believe.”
“One mass of babies!” repeated Mr. Chick, staring with an alarmed expression about him.
“It would have occurred to most men,” said Mrs. Chick, “that poor dear Fanny being no more, it becomes necessary to provide a Nurse.”
“Oh! Ah!” said Mr. Chick. “Toor-rul—such is life, I mean. I hope you are suited, my dear.”
“Indeed I am not,” said Mrs. Chick; “nor likely to be, so far as I can see. Meanwhile, of course, the child is—”
“Going to the Devil,” said Mr. Chick, thoughtfully, “to be sure.”
Admonished, however, that he had committed himself, by the indignation expressed in Mrs. Chick’s countenance at the idea of a Dombey going there; and thinking to atone for his misconduct by a bright suggestion, he added:
“Couldn’t something temporary be done with a teapot?”
If he had meant to bring the subject prematurely to a close, he could not have done it more effectually. After looking at him for some moments in silent resignation, Mrs. Chick walked majestically to the window and peeped through the blind, attracted by the sound of wheels. Mr. Chick, finding that his destiny was, for the time, against him, said no more, and walked off. But it was not always thus with Mr. Chick. He was often in the ascendant himself, and at those times punished Louisa roundly. In their matrimonial bickerings they were, upon the whole, a well-matched, fairly-balanced, give-and-take couple. It would have been, generally speaking, very difficult to have betted on the winner. Often when Mr. Chick seemed beaten, he would suddenly make a start, turn the tables, clatter them about the ears of Mrs. Chick, and carry all before him. Being liable himself to similar unlooked for checks from Mrs. Chick, their little contests usually possessed a character of uncertainty that was very animating.
Miss Tox had arrived on the wheels just now alluded to, and came running into the room in a breathless condition.
“My dear Louisa,” said Miss Tox, “is the vacancy still unsupplied?”
“You good soul, yes,” said Mrs. Chick.
“Then, my dear Louisa,” returned Miss Tox, “I hope and believe—but in one moment, my dear, I’ll introduce the party.”
Running downstairs again as fast as she had run up, Miss Tox got the party out of the hackney-coach, and soon returned with it under convoy.
It then appeared that she had used the word, not in its legal or business acceptation, when it merely expresses an individual, but as a noun of multitude, or signifying many: for Miss Tox escorted a plump rosy-cheeked wholesome apple-faced young woman, with an infant in her arms; a younger woman not so plump, but apple-faced also, who led a plump
