‘My dear Bounderby,’ said James, dismounting, and giving his bridle to his servant, ‘I do see it; and am as overcome as you can possibly desire me to be, by the spectacle afforded to my mental view. Nevertheless, I may be allowed, I hope, to congratulate you—which I do with all my soul, I assure you—on your not having sustained a greater loss.’
‘Thank’ee,’ replied Bounderby, in a short, ungracious manner. ‘But I tell you what. It might have been twenty thousand pound.’
‘I suppose it might.’
‘Suppose it might! By the Lord, you may suppose so. By George!’ said Mr. Bounderby, with sundry menacing nods and shakes of his head. ‘It might have been twice twenty. There’s no knowing what it would have been, or wouldn’t have been, as it was, but for the fellows’ being disturbed.’
Louisa had come up now, and Mrs. Sparsit, and Bitzer.
‘Here’s Tom Gradgrind’s daughter knows pretty well what it might have been, if you don’t,’ blustered Bounderby. ‘Dropped, sir, as if she was shot when I told her! Never knew her do such a thing before. Does her credit, under the circumstances, in my opinion!’
She still looked faint and pale. James Harthouse begged her to take his arm; and as they moved on very slowly, asked her how the robbery had been committed.
‘Why, I am going to tell you,’ said Bounderby, irritably giving his arm to Mrs. Sparsit. ‘If you hadn’t been so mighty particular about the sum, I should have begun to tell you before. You know this lady (for she is a lady), Mrs. Sparsit?’
‘I have already had the honour—’
‘Very well. And this young man, Bitzer, you saw him too on the same occasion?’ Mr. Harthouse inclined his head in assent, and Bitzer knuckled his forehead.