'There, get to your work, child, and put the things in order, do.' While Kate was wondering within herself what these symptoms of unusual vexation portended, Mr Mantalini put the tips of his whiskers, and, by degrees, his head, through the half-opened door, and cried in a soft voice-- 'Is my life and soul there ?' 'No,' replied his wife.
'How can it say so, when it is blooming in the front room like a little rose in a demnition flower-pot ?' urged Mantalini.

'May its poppet come in and talk ?' 'Certainly not,' replied Madame: 'you know I never allow you here.

Go along!' The poppet, however, encouraged perhaps by the relenting tone of this reply, ventured to rebel, and, stealing into the room, made towards Madame Mantalini on tiptoe, blowing her a kiss as he came along.
'Why will it vex itself, and twist its little face into bewitching nutcrackers ?' said Mantalini, putting his left arm round the waist of his life and soul, and drawing her towards him with his right.
'Oh! I can't bear you,' replied his wife.
'Not--eh, not bear ME!' exclaimed Mantalini.

'Fibs, fibs.

It couldn't be.