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My Uncle's child made people's blood run cold, some times, she did! 'How? asked Berry. 'I wouldn't have sat up all night alone with Betsey Jane! said Mrs Wickam, 'not if you'd have put Wickam into business next morning for himself. I couldn't have done it, Miss Berry. Miss Berry naturally asked why not?
I have heard her, many a time, talk just like him. I consider that child and Betsey Jane on the same footing entirely, Miss Berry. 'Is your Uncle's child alive? asked Berry. 'Yes, Miss, she is alive, returned Mrs Wickam with an air of triumph, for it was evident. Miss Berry expected the reverse; 'and is married to a silver-chaser.
With this notable attendant to pull him along, and Florence always walking by his side, and the despondent Wickam bringing up the rear, he went down to the margin of the ocean every day; and there he would sit or lie in his carriage for hours together: never so distressed as by the company of children Florence alone excepted, always.
Mrs Wickam, standing at the foot of the bed, like a disconsolate spectre, most decidedly and forcibly shook her head to negative this position. 'It matters very little! said Alice, with a faint smile. 'Better or worse to-day, is but a day's difference perhaps not so much.
'Won't you come with your poor Nurse Wickam, Master Paul? inquired that attendant, with great pathos. 'No, I won't, replied Paul, composing himself in his arm-chair again, like the master of the house. Invoking a blessing upon his innocence, Mrs Wickam withdrew, and presently Florence appeared in her stead.
Mrs Pipchin's constitution was made of such hard metal, in spite of its liability to the fleshly weaknesses of standing in need of repose after chops, and of requiring to be coaxed to sleep by the soporific agency of sweet-breads, that it utterly set at naught the predictions of Mrs Wickam, and showed no symptoms of decline.
That was all he thought of. So, on Sunday nights, when the Doctor's dark door stood agape to swallow him up for another week, the time was come for taking leave of Florence; no one else. Mrs Wickam had been drafted home to the house in town, and Miss Nipper, now a smart young woman, had come down.
"It's not polite," said Paul innocently, "to eat all the mutton-chops and toast, Wickam says." "Wickam," retorted Mrs. Pipchin colouring, "is a wicked, impudent, bold-faced hussy." "What's that?" inquired Paul. "Never you mind, sir," retorted Mrs. Pipchin. "Remember the story of the little boy that was gored to death by a mad bull for asking questions."
It was a part of Mrs Pipchin's policy to prevent her own 'young hussy' that was Mrs Pipchin's generic name for female servant from communicating with Mrs Wickam: to which end she devoted much of her time to concealing herself behind doors, and springing out on that devoted maiden, whenever she made an approach towards Mrs Wickam's apartment.
Paul and Florence went out in the meantime on the beach with Wickam who was constantly in tears and at about noon Mrs Pipchin presided over some Early Readings.
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