'Oh, my aunt! my aunt!' he says as he leans against the banisters.

'My aunt, my aunt, my aunt!' "What a birthday will this be for him on the morrow! He already hears the sound of the hospital bells as they ring with joy at the acquisition of their new wealth; he must dash from his lips, tear from his heart, banish for ever from his eyes, that vision of a sweet little cottage at Brompton, with a charming dressing-room for himself, and gas laid on all over the house.
"'Lodgings! I hate, I detest lodgings!' he said to himself.
'Connubial bliss and furnished lodgings are not compatible.

My aunt, my aunt, for what misery hast thou not to answer! Oh, Mrs.
Gamp, could you be so obliging as to tell me what o'clock it is ?' The last question was asked as Mrs.Gamp suddenly entered the room with a candle.

Macassar's watch had been required for the use of one of the servants.
"'It's just half-past heleven, this wery moment as is,' said Mrs.
Gamp; 'and the finest boy babby as my heyes, which has seen a many, has ever sat upon.' "Up, up to the ceiling went the horsehair cushion of the lodging-house sofa--up went the footstool after it, and its four wooden legs in falling made a terrible clatter on the mahogany loo-table.

Macassar in his joy got hold of Mrs.Gamp, and kissed her heartily, forgetful of the fumes of gin.