'Here's wishing of her back agin.' Polly cried more than ever at this.

So Mrs Chick, who had her matronly apprehensions that this indulgence in grief might be prejudicial to the little Dombey ('acid, indeed,' she whispered Miss Tox), hastened to the rescue.
'Your little child will thrive charmingly with your sister Jemima, Richards,' said Mrs Chick; 'and you have only to make an effort--this is a world of effort, you know, Richards--to be very happy indeed.

You have been already measured for your mourning, haven't you, Richards ?' 'Ye--es, Ma'am,' sobbed Polly.
'And it'll fit beautifully.

I know,' said Mrs Chick, 'for the same young person has made me many dresses.

The very best materials, too!' 'Lor, you'll be so smart,' said Miss Tox, 'that your husband won't know you; will you, Sir ?' 'I should know her,' said Toodle, gruffly, 'anyhows and anywheres.' Toodle was evidently not to be bought over.
'As to living, Richards, you know,' pursued Mrs Chick, 'why, the very best of everything will be at your disposal.