een more shamefully used than anybody ever was in
this world,' here she began to cry and sob, 'and may expect the worse
treatment from you, I know. But I don't care for that. No, I don't!'

Mr Pecksniff was made so desperate by the loud tone in which she spoke,
that, after looking about him in frantic uncertainty for some means of
softening it, he rose and shook her until the ornamental bow of hair
upon her head nodded like a plume. She was so very much astonished by
this assault, that it really had the desired effect.

'I'll do it again!' cried Mr Pecksniff, as he resumed his seat and
fetched his breath, 'if you dare to talk in that loud manner. How do
you mean about being shamefully used? If Mr Jonas chose your sister in
preference to you, who could help it, I should wish to know? What have I
to do with it?'

'Wasn't I made a convenience of? Weren't my feelings trifled with?
Didn't he address himself to me first?' sobbed Cherry, clasping her
hands; 'and oh, good gracious, that I should live to be shook!'

'You'll live to be shaken again,' returned her parent, 'if you drive
me to that means of maintaining the decorum of this humble roof. You
surprise me. I wonder you have not more spirit. If Mr Jonas didn't care
for you, how could you wish to have him?'

'I wish to have him!' exclaimed Cherry. 'I wish to have him, Pa!'

'Then what are you making all this piece of work for,' retorted her
father, 'if you didn't wish to have him?'

'Because I was treated with duplicity,' said Cherry; 'and because my own
sister and my own father conspired against me. I am not angry with HER,'
said Cherry; looking much more angry than ever. 'I pity her. I'm sorry
for her. I know the fate that's in store for her, with that Wretch.'

'Mr Jonas will survive your calling him a wretch, my child, I dare say,'
said Mr Pecksniff, with returning resignation; 'but call him what you
like and make an end of it.'

'Not an end, Pa,' said Charity. 'No, not an end. That's not the only
point on which we're not agreed. I won't submit to it. It's better you
should know that at once. No; I won't submit to it indeed, Pa! I am
not quite a fool, and I am not blind. All I have got to say is, I won't
submit to it.'

Whatever she meant, she shook Mr Pecksniff now; for his lame attempt to
seem composed was melancholy in the last degree. His anger changed to
meekness, and his words were mild and fawning.

'My dear,' he said; 'if in the short excitement of