"Lor-a-mussy!" said Mrs. Tulrumble: "why, what's become of old Sniggs?"
"The late Mr. Sniggs, Mrs. Tulrumble," said Mr. Tulrumble sharply, for he by no means approved of the notion of unceremoniously designating a gentleman who had filled the high office of Mayor as "old Sniggs,"—"The late Mr. Sniggs, Mrs. Tulrumble, is dead."
The communication was very unexpected; but Mrs. Tulrumble only ejaculated "Lor-a-mussy!" once again, as if a Mayor were a mere ordinary Christian, at which Mr. Tulrumble frowned gloomily.
"What a pity 'tan't in London, ain't it?" said Mrs. Tulrumble, after a short pause; "what a pity 'tan't in London, where you might have had a show."
"I might have a show in Mudfog, if I thought proper, I apprehend," said Mr. Tulrumble mysteriously.
"Lor! so you might, I declare," replied Mrs. Tulrumble.
"And a good one, too," said Mr. Tulrumble.
"Delightful!" exclaimed Mrs. Tulrumble.
"One which would rather astonish the ignorant people down there," said Mr. Tulrumble.
"It would kill them with envy," said Mrs. Tulrumble.