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Updated: June 11, 2025
At this point she was fain to stop for breath; and advantage may be taken of the circumstance, to state that a fearful mystery surrounded this lady of the name of Harris, whom no one in the circle of Mrs Gamp's acquaintance had ever seen; neither did any human being know her place of residence, though Mrs Gamp appeared on her own showing to be in constant communication with her.
Mrs Gamp's apartment in Kingsgate Street, High Holborn, wore, metaphorically speaking, a robe of state. It was swept and garnished for the reception of a visitor.
'Why, returned Tacker, pausing, 'that's where it is, you see. It's the beadle's son-in-law. 'The beadle's son-in-law, eh? said Mould. 'Well! I'll do it if the beadle follows in his cocked hat; not else. We carry it off that way, by looking official, but it'll be low enough, then. His cocked hat, mind! 'I'll take care, sir, rejoined Tacker. 'Oh! Mrs Gamp's below, and wants to speak to you.
Gamp's abstemiousness, on the understanding that is, that the latter's one golden rule of life, is complied with "'Leave the bottle on the chimbley-piece, and don't ast me to take none, but let me put my lips to it when I am so dispoged, and then, Mrs. Harris, I says, I will do what I am engaged to, according to the best of my ability. 'Mrs.
Mrs Gamp's apartment was not a spacious one, but, to a contented mind, a closet is a palace; and the first-floor front at Mr Sweedlepipe's may have been, in the imagination of Mrs Gamp, a stately pile. If it were not exactly that, to restless intellects, it at least comprised as much accommodation as any person, not sanguine to insanity, could have looked for in a room of its dimensions.
The bed itself was decorated with a patchwork quilt of great antiquity; and at the upper end, upon the side nearest to the door, hung a scanty curtain of blue check, which prevented the Zephyrs that were abroad in Kingsgate Street, from visiting Mrs Gamp's head too roughly.
There were conflicting rumours on the subject; but the prevalent opinion was that she was a phantom of Mrs Gamp's brain as Messrs. Doe and Roe are fictions of the law created for the express purpose of holding visionary dialogues with her on all manner of subjects, and invariably winding up with a compliment to the excellence of her nature.
Grundy say?" is the nervous catchword of one of the characters, much in the same way as Mrs. Gamp was wont to defer to the censorious standards of her invisible friend "Mrs. Harris." In the case of the last named chimera, it will be recalled that the awful moment came when Mrs. Gamp's boon companion, Batsey Prig, was sacrilegious enough to declare her belief that no such person as "Mrs.
'No, Betsey Prig, it ain't, was Mrs Gamp's reply. 'Well! said Mrs Prig, with a short laugh. 'I'm glad of that, at any rate. 'Why should you be glad of that, Betsey? Mrs Gamp retorted, warmly. 'She is unbeknown to you except by hearsay, why should you be glad?
Thoroughly akin, by the way, to which exceedingly questionable expression of goodwill on the part of Mr. Mould, is Mrs. Gamp's equally confiding outburst of philanthropy from her point of view, where she remarks of course to her familiar, as Socrates when communing with his Daemon "'Mrs.
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