Be as like your sister as you can, and speak out!' 'Is he--is Mr.Dick--I ask because I don't know, aunt--is he at all out of his mind, then ?' I stammered; for I felt I was on dangerous ground.
'Not a morsel,' said my aunt.
'Oh, indeed!' I observed faintly.
'If there is anything in the world,' said my aunt, with great decision and force of manner, 'that Mr.Dick is not, it's that.' I had nothing better to offer, than another timid, 'Oh, indeed!' 'He has been CALLED mad,' said my aunt.

'I have a selfish pleasure in saying he has been called mad, or I should not have had the benefit of his society and advice for these last ten years and upwards--in fact, ever since your sister, Betsey Trotwood, disappointed me.' 'So long as that ?' I said.
'And nice people they were, who had the audacity to call him mad,' pursued my aunt.

'Mr.Dick is a sort of distant connexion of mine--it doesn't matter how; I needn't enter into that.

If it hadn't been for me, his own brother would have shut him up for life.

That's all.' I am afraid it was hypocritical in me, but seeing that my aunt felt strongly on the subject, I tried to look as if I felt strongly too.
'A proud fool!' said my aunt.