‘My children, my defrauded, swindled infants!’ cried Mr. Kenwigs, pulling so hard, in his vehemence, at the flaxen tail of his second daughter, that he lifted her up on tiptoe, and kept her, for some seconds, in that attitude. ‘Villain, ass, traitor!’
[Original]
‘Drat the man!’ cried the nurse, looking angrily around. ‘What does he mean by making that noise here?’
‘Silence, woman!’ said Mr. Kenwigs, fiercely.
‘I won’t be silent,’ returned the nurse. ‘Be silent yourself, you wretch. Have you no regard for your baby?’
‘No!’ returned Mr. Kenwigs.
‘More shame for you,’ retorted the nurse. ‘Ugh! you unnatural monster.’
‘Let him die,’ cried Mr. Kenwigs, in the torrent of his wrath. ‘Let him die! He has no expectations, no property to come into. We want no babies here,’ said Mr. Kenwigs recklessly. ‘Take ‘em away, take ‘em away to the Fondling!’
With these awful remarks, Mr. Kenwigs sat himself down in a chair, and defied the nurse, who made the best of her way into the adjoining room, and returned with a stream of matrons: declaring that Mr. Kenwigs had spoken blasphemy against his family, and must be raving mad.