“Night-watching, eh?” said Mould, rubbing his chin.
“From eight o’clock till eight, sir. I will not deceive you,” Mrs. Gamp rejoined.
“And then go back, eh?” said Mould.
“Quite free, then, sir, to attend to Mr. Chuffey. His ways bein’ quiet, and his hours early, he’d be abed, sir, nearly all the time. I will not deny,” said Mrs. Gamp with meekness, “that I am but a poor woman, and that the money is a object; but do not let that act upon you, Mr. Mould. Rich folks may ride on camels, but it an’t so easy for ’em to see out of a needle’s eye. That is my comfort, and I hope I knows it.”
“Well, Mrs. Gamp,” observed Mould, “I don’t see any particular objection to your earning an honest penny under such circumstances. I should keep it quiet, I think, Mrs. Gamp. I wouldn’t mention it to Mr. Chuzzlewit on his return, for instance, unless it were necessary, or he asked you pointblank.”
“The very words was on my lips, sir,” Mrs. Gamp rejoined. “Suppoging that the gent should die, I hope I might take the liberty of saying as I know’d someone in the undertaking line, and yet give no offence to you, sir?”
“Certainly, Mrs. Gamp,” said Mould, with much condescension. “You may casually remark, in such a case, that we do the thing pleasantly and in a great variety of styles, and are generally considered to make it as agreeable as possible to the feelings of the survivors. But don’t obtrude it, don’t obtrude it. Easy, easy! My dear, you may as well give Mrs. Gamp a card or two, if you please.”
Mrs. Gamp received them, and scenting no more rum in the wind (for the bottle was locked up again) rose to take her departure.
“Wishing ev’ry happiness to this happy family,” said Mrs. Gamp “with all my heart. Good arternoon, Mrs. Mould! If I was Mr. would I should be jealous of you, ma’am; and I’m sure, if I was you, I should be jealous of Mr. Mould.”
“Tut, tut! Bah, bah! Go along, Mrs. Gamp!” cried the delighted undertaker.
“As to the young ladies,” said Mrs. Gamp, dropping a curtsey, “bless their sweet looks—how they can ever reconsize it with their duties to be so grown up with such young parents, it an’t for sech as me to give a guess at.”
“Nonsense, nonsense. Be off, Mrs. Gamp!” cried Mould. But in the height of his gratification he actually pinched Mrs. Mould as he said it.
“I’ll tell you what, my dear,” he observed, when Mrs. Gamp had at last withdrawn and shut the door, “that’s a very shrewd woman. That’s a woman whose intellect is immensely superior to her station in life. That’s a woman who observes and reflects in an uncommon manner. She’s the sort of woman now,” said Mould, drawing his silk handkerchief over his head again, and composing himself for a nap “one would almost feel disposed to bury for nothing; and do it neatly, too!”
Mrs. Mould and her daughters fully concurred in these remarks; the subject of which had by this time reached the street, where she experienced so much inconvenience from the air, that she was obliged to stand under an archway for a short time, to recover herself. Even after this precaution, she walked so unsteadily as to attract the compassionate regards of divers kindhearted boys, who took the liveliest interest in her disorder; and in their simple language bade her be of good cheer, for she was “only a little screwed.”
Whatever she was, or whatever name the vocabulary of medical science would have bestowed upon her malady, Mrs. Gamp was perfectly acquainted with the way home again; and arriving at the house of Anthony Chuzzlewit & Son, lay down to rest. Remaining there until seven o’clock in the evening, and then persuading poor old Chuffey to betake himself to bed, she sallied forth upon her new engagement. First, she went to her private lodgings in Kingsgate Street, for a bundle of robes and wrappings comfortable in the night season; and then repaired to the Bull in Holborn, which she reached as the clocks were striking eight.
As she turned into the yard, she stopped; for the landlord, landlady, and head chambermaid, were all on the threshold together, talking earnestly with a young gentleman who seemed to have just come or to be just going away. The first words that struck upon Mrs. Gamp’s ear obviously bore reference to the patient; and it being expedient that all good attendants should know as much as possible about the case on which their skill is brought to bear, Mrs. Gamp listened as a matter of duty.
“No better, then?” observed the gentleman.
“Worse!” said the landlord.
“Much worse,” added the landlady.
“Oh! a deal badder,” cried the chambermaid from the background, opening her eyes very wide, and shaking her head.
“Poor fellow!” said the gentleman, “I
