in so much of it that she
was retiring with difficulty into the small closet under the stairs,
apprehensive of the emergence of Mr and Mrs Boffin.

'The avocations of R. W., my husband,' Mrs Wilfer explained, on resuming
her seat, 'keep him fully engaged in the City at this time of the day,
or he would have had the honour of participating in your reception
beneath our humble roof.'

'Very pleasant premises!' said Mr Boffin, cheerfully.

'Pardon me, sir,' returned Mrs Wilfer, correcting him, 'it is the abode
of conscious though independent Poverty.'

Finding it rather difficult to pursue the conversation down this road,
Mr and Mrs Boffin sat staring at mid-air, and Mrs Wilfer sat silently
giving them to understand that every breath she drew required to be
drawn with a self-denial rarely paralleled in history, until Miss Bella
appeared: whom Mrs Wilfer presented, and to whom she explained the
purpose of the visitors.

'I am much obliged to you, I am sure,' said Miss Bella, coldly shaking
her curls, 'but I doubt if I have the inclination to go out at all.'

'Bella!' Mrs Wilfer admonished her; 'Bella, you must conquer this.'

'Yes, do what your Ma says, and conquer it, my dear,' urged Mrs Boffin,
'because we shall be so glad to have you, and because you are much too
pretty to keep yourself shut up.' With that, the pleasant creature gave
her a kiss, and patted her on her dimpled shoulders; Mrs Wilfer sitting
stiffly by, like a functionary presiding over an interview previous to
an execution.

'We are going to move into a nice house,' said Mrs Boffin, who was woman
enough to compromise Mr Boffin on that point, when he couldn't very well
contest it; 'and we are going to set up a nice carriage, and we'll go
everywhere and see everything. And you mustn't,' seating Bella beside
her, and patting her hand, 'you mustn't feel a dislike to us to begin
with, because we couldn't help it, you know, my dear.'

With the natural tendency of youth to yield to candour and sweet temper,
Miss Bella was so touched by the simplicity of this address that she
frankly returned Mrs Boffin's kiss. Not at all to the satisfaction
of that good woman of the world, her mother, who sought to hold the
advantageous ground of obliging the Boffins instead of being obliged.

'My youngest daughter, Lavinia,' said Mrs Wilfer, glad to make a
diversion, as that young lady reappeared. 'Mr George Sampson, a friend
of the family.'

The friend of the family