Mrs Gamp laid her hand upon her heart, to put some check upon its palpitations, and turning up her eyes replied in a faint voice:
‘The awfulest things, Mr Chuzzlewit, as ever I heerd! Which Mrs Harris’s father never spoke a word when took so, some does and some don’t, except sayin’ when he come round, “Where is Sairey Gamp?” But raly, sir, when Mr Chuffey comes to ask who’s lyin’ dead upstairs, and—’
‘Who’s lying dead upstairs!’ repeated Jonas, standing aghast.
Mrs Gamp nodded, made as if she were swallowing, and went on.
‘Who’s lying dead upstairs; sech was his Bible language; and where was Mr Chuzzlewit as had the only son; and when he goes upstairs a-looking in the beds and wandering about the rooms, and comes down again a-whisperin’ softly to his-self about foul play and that; it gives me sech a turn, I don’t deny it, Mr Chuzzlewit, that I never could have kep myself up but for a little drain o’ spirits, which I seldom touches, but could always wish to know where to find, if so dispoged, never knowin’ wot may happen next, the world bein’ so uncertain.’
‘Why, the old fool’s mad!’ cried Jonas, much disturbed.
‘That’s my opinion, sir,’ said Mrs Gamp, ‘and I will not deceive you. I believe as Mr Chuffey, sir, rekwires attention (if I may make so bold), and should not have his liberty to wex and worrit your sweet lady as he does.’
‘Why, who minds what he says?’ retorted Jonas.
‘Still he is worritin’ sir,’ said Mrs Gamp. ‘No one don’t mind him, but he is a ill conwenience.’
‘Ecod you’re right,’ said Jonas, looking doubtfully at the subject of this conversation. ‘I have half a mind to shut him up.’