So, ye'll tell me, little Belloni, is Arr'bella goin' to marry Mr.Annybody?
And is Cornelia goin' to marry Sir Tickleham?
And whether Mr.Wilfrud's goin' to marry Lady Charlotte Chill'nworth?
Becas, my dear, there's Arr'bella, who's sharp, she is, as a North-easter in January, (which Chump 'd cry out for, for the sake of his ships, poor fella--he kneelin' by 's bedside in a long nightgown and lookin' just twice what he was!) she has me like a nail to my vary words, and shows me that nothin' can happen betas o' what I've said.

And Cornelia--if ye'll fancy a tall codfish on its tail: 'Mrs.Chump, I beg ye'll not go to believe annything of me.' So I says to her, 'Cornelia! my dear! do ye think, now, it's true that Chump went and marrud his cook, that ye treat me so?
becas my father,' I tell her, 'he dealt in porrk in a large way, and I was a fine woman, full of the arr'stocracy, and Chump a little puffed-out bladder of a man.' So then she says: 'Mrs.Chump, I listen to no gossup: listen you to no gossup.

'And Mr.Wilfrud, my dear, he sends me on the flat o' my back, laughin'.

And Ad'la she takes and turns me right about, so that I don't see the thing I'm askin' after; and there's nobody but you, little Belloni, to help me, and if ye do, ye shall know what the crumple of paper sounds like." Mrs.Chump gave a sugary suck with her tongue.

Emilia returned the money to her.
"Ye're foolush!" said Mrs.Chump.