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Updated: June 23, 2025
Truly, Mrs Miff has cause to pounce on an unlucky dwarf child, with a giant baby, who peeps in at the porch, and drive her forth with indignation! Cousin Feenix has come over from abroad, expressly to attend the marriage.
"And, neighbours, when a feller, ever so much up for a miff, d'see his own father sitting in his enemy's easy-chair, and a poor chap like Leaf made the best of, as if he almost had brains why, it knocks all the wind out of his sail at once: it did out of mine."
Mr Dombey's servants come out of their hiding-places, and prepare to rush to Brook Street, when they are delayed by symptoms of indisposition on the part of Mrs Perch, who entreats a glass of water, and becomes alarming; Mrs Perch gets better soon, however, and is borne away; and Mrs Miff, and Mr Sownds the Beadle, sit upon the steps to count what they have gained by the affair, and talk it over, while the sexton tolls a funeral.
"Yes, catch her sartain, now," he said, with a complaisant glance over his dashing rig, on departing for the chief's, as soon as he ascertained the fair object of his pursuit had returned to her father's. But he soon came back, in a great miff, and offered to sell the whole of his fine new outfit for just one half what it cost him.
Mrs Miff remembers, like wise, as if it had happened yesterday, the first wife's funeral, and then the christening, and then the other funeral; and Mrs Miff says, by-the-bye she'll soap-and-water that 'ere tablet presently, against the company arrive.
Mrs Miff assents with a spare nod of her mortified bonnet; but approves of this so little, that she inwardly resolves she wouldn't be the wife of Mr Sownds for any money he could give her, Beadle as he is. And what are the young couple saying as they leave the church, and go out at the gate? 'Dear Walter, thank you! I can go away, now, happy.
Mrs Miff resumes her dusting and plumps up her cushions for the yellow-faced old gentleman is reported to have tender knees but keeps her glazed, pew-opening eye on the young couple who are walking round the church. 'Ahem, coughs Mrs Miff whose cough is drier than the hay in any hassock in her charge, 'you'll come to us one of these mornings, my dears, unless I'm much mistaken!
"Why, what's the matter, Mrs Miff?" "Oh, sir! that 'orrid little dog as you brought 'as gone mad!" "Is that the blessing you refer to, Mrs Miff?" "No, sir; but your comin' back is, for the creetur 'as bin rampagin' round the room, an yellin' like a thing possessed by demons. I'm so glad you've come!"
There is no such fact as Mr Miff, nor has there been, these twenty years, and Mrs Miff would rather not allude to him. He held some bad opinions, it would seem, about free seats; and though Mrs Miff hopes he may be gone upwards, she couldn't positively undertake to say so.
Mrs Miff, meeting Mr Dombey's eye as it is withdrawn from the presumptuous maniac upstairs, who salutes him with so much urbanity, drops a curtsey, and informs him that she believes his 'good lady' is come. Then there is a crowding and a whispering at the door, and the good lady enters, with a haughty step.
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