'How should you like to be my number two, Nelly ?' 'To be what, sir ?' 'My number two, Nelly, my second, my Mrs Quilp,' said the dwarf.
The child looked frightened, but seemed not to understand him, which Mr Quilp observing, hastened to make his meaning more distinctly.
'To be Mrs Quilp the second, when Mrs Quilp the first is dead, sweet Nell,' said Quilp, wrinkling up his eyes and luring her towards him with his bent forefinger, 'to be my wife, my little cherry-cheeked, red-lipped wife.

Say that Mrs Quilp lives five year, or only four, you'll be just the proper age for me.

Ha ha! Be a good girl, Nelly, a very good girl, and see if one of these days you don't come to be Mrs Quilp of Tower Hill.' So far from being sustained and stimulated by this delightful prospect, the child shrank from him in great agitation, and trembled violently.
Mr Quilp, either because frightening anybody afforded him a constitutional delight, or because it was pleasant to contemplate the death of Mrs Quilp number one, and the elevation of Mrs Quilp number two to her post and title, or because he was determined from purposes of his own to be agreeable and good-humoured at that particular time, only laughed and feigned to take no heed of her alarm.
'You shall home with me to Tower Hill and see Mrs Quilp that is, directly,' said the dwarf.

'She's very fond of you, Nell, though not so fond as I am.

You shall come home with me.' 'I must go back indeed,' said the child.