For he certainly did it.' 'And I was stamping my foot and screaming, when he first took notice of me; was I ?' said Bella, contemplating the ankle before mentioned.
'You were stamping your little foot, my dear, and screaming with your little voice, and laying into me with your little bonnet, which you had snatched off for the purpose,' returned her father, as if the remembrance gave a relish to the rum; 'you were doing this one Sunday morning when I took you out, because I didn't go the exact way you wanted, when the old gentleman, sitting on a seat near, said, "That's a nice girl; that's a VERY nice girl; a promising girl!" And so you were, my dear.' 'And then he asked my name, did he, pa ?' 'Then he asked your name, my dear, and mine; and on other Sunday mornings, when we walked his way, we saw him again, and--and really that's all.' As that was all the rum and water too, or, in other words, as R.W.
delicately signified that his glass was empty, by throwing back his head and standing the glass upside down on his nose and upper lip, it might have been charitable in Mrs Wilfer to suggest replenishment.

But that heroine briefly suggesting 'Bedtime' instead, the bottles were put away, and the family retired; she cherubically escorted, like some severe saint in a painting, or merely human matron allegorically treated.
'And by this time to-morrow,' said Lavinia when the two girls were alone in their room, 'we shall have Mr Rokesmith here, and shall be expecting to have our throats cut.' 'You needn't stand between me and the candle for all that,' retorted Bella.

'This is another of the consequences of being poor! The idea of a girl with a really fine head of hair, having to do it by one flat candle and a few inches of looking-glass!' 'You caught George Sampson with it, Bella, bad as your means of dressing it are.' 'You low little thing.

Caught George Sampson with it! Don't talk about catching people, miss, till your own time for catching--as you call it--comes.' 'Perhaps it has come,' muttered Lavvy, with a toss of her head.
'What did you say ?' asked Bella, very sharply.

'What did you say, miss ?' Lavvy declining equally to repeat or to explain, Bella gradually lapsed over her hair-dressing into a soliloquy on the miseries of being poor, as exemplified in having nothing to put on, nothing to go out in, nothing to dress by, only a nasty box to dress at instead of a commodious dressing-table, and being obliged to take in suspicious lodgers.