"Never go into the company of a Punch any more," said Mrs. Jarley, "after this."
"I never saw any wax-work, ma'am," said Nell. "Is it funnier than Punch?"
"Funnier!" said Mrs. Jarley in a shrill voice. "It is not funny at all."
"Oh!" said Nell very humbly.
"It isn't funny at all," repeated Mrs. Jarley. "It's calm and—classical. No low beatings and knockings about, no jokings and squeakings, like your precious Punches, but always the same, and so like life that if wax-work only spoke and walked about, you'd hardly know the difference. I won't go so far as to say that, as it is, I've seen wax-work quite like life, but I've certainly seen some life that was exactly like wax-work."
"Is it here, ma'am?" asked Nell.
"Is what here, child?"
"The wax-work, ma'am."
"Why, bless you, child, what are you thinking of? How could it be here, where you see everything except the inside of one little cupboard and a few boxes? It's gone on in the other vans to the next town, and there it'll be shown the day after to-morrow. You are going to the same town, and you'll see it, I dare say. I suppose you couldn't stop away if you was to try ever so much."
"I shall not be in the town, I think, ma'am," said the child.