“No.”
“NOT a party in anything, ma’am?” says Mr. Guppy.
Mrs. Chadband shakes her head.
“Perhaps you were acquainted with somebody who was a party in something, ma’am?” says Mr. Guppy, who likes nothing better than to model his conversation on forensic principles.
“Not exactly that, either,” replies Mrs. Chadband, humouring the joke with a hard-favoured smile.
“Not exactly that, either!” repeats Mr. Guppy. “Very good. Pray, ma’am, was it a lady of your acquaintance who had some transactions (we will not at present say what transactions) with Kenge and Carboy’s office, or was it a gentleman of your acquaintance? Take time, ma’am. We shall come to it presently. Man or woman, ma’am?”
“Neither,” says Mrs. Chadband as before.
“Oh! A child!” says Mr. Guppy, throwing on the admiring Mrs. Snagsby the regular acute professional eye which is thrown on British jurymen. “Now, ma’am, perhaps you’ll have the kindness to tell us WHAT child.”
“You have got it at last, sir,” says Mrs. Chadband with another hard-favoured smile. “Well, sir, it was before your time, most likely, judging from your appearance. I was left in charge of a child named Esther Summerson, who was put out in life by Messrs. Kenge and Carboy.”
“Miss Summerson, ma’am!” cries Mr. Guppy, excited.