(In which Mrs. Harris, assisted by a Carpet, is the cause of a division between Friends.)
Mrs. Gamp's apartment wore, metaphorically speaking, a Bab-Balladish aspect, being considerably topsy-turvey, as rooms have a habit of being after any unusual ebullition of temper on the part of their occupants. It was certainly not swept and garnished, although its owner was preparing for the reception of a visitor. That visitor was Betsey Prig.
Mrs. Gamp's chimney-piece was ornamented with three photographs: one of herself, looking somewhat severe; one of her friend and bosom companion, Mrs. Prig, of far more amiable aspect; and one of a mysterious personage supposed to be Mrs. Harris.
"There! Now, drat you, Betsey, don't be long!" said Mrs. Gamp, apostrophising her absent friend. "For I'm in no mood for waiting, I do assure you. I'm easy pleased, but I must have my own way (as is always the best and wisest), and have it directly minit, when the fancy strikes me, else we shall part, and that not friendly, as I could wish, but bearin' malice in our 'arts."
"Betsey," said Mrs. Gamp, "I will now propoge a toast. My frequent pardner, Betsey Prig!"
"Which, altering the name to Sairah Gamp, I drink," said Mrs. Prig, "with love and tenderness!"
"Now, Sairah," said Mrs. Prig, "jining business with pleasure, as so often we've done afore, wot is this bothersome affair about which you wants to consult me? Are you a-goin' to call me over the Carpet once more, Sairey?"
"Drat the Carpet!" exclaimed Mrs. Gamp, with a vehement explosiveness whose utter unexpectedness quite disconcerted her friend.