d at the
teapot, and gradually got out of the room. John Westlock, taking a
chair, sat down on one side of Mrs Gamp. Martin, taking the foot of the
bed, supported her on the other.

'You wonder what we want, I daresay,' observed John. 'I'll tell you
presently, when you have recovered. It's not pressing, for a few minutes
or so. How do you find yourself? Better?'

Mrs Gamp shed more tears, shook her head and feebly pronounced Mrs
Harris's name.

'Have a little--' John was at a loss what to call it.

'Tea,' suggested Martin.

'It ain't tea,' said Mrs Gamp.

'Physic of some sort, I suppose,' cried John. 'Have a little.'

Mrs Gamp was prevailed upon to take a glassful. 'On condition,' she
passionately observed, 'as Betsey never has another stroke of work from
me.'

'Certainly not,' said John. 'She shall never help to nurse ME.'

'To think,' said Mrs Gamp, 'as she should ever have helped to nuss that
friend of yourn, and been so near of hearing things that--Ah!'

John looked at Martin.

'Yes,' he said. 'That was a narrow escape, Mrs Gamp.'

'Narrer, in-deed!' she returned. 'It was only my having the night, and
hearin' of him in his wanderins; and her the day, that saved it. Wot
would she have said and done, if she had know'd what I know; that
perfeejus wretch! Yet, oh good gracious me!' cried Mrs Gamp, trampling
on the floor, in the absence of Mrs Prig, 'that I should hear from that
same woman's lips what I have heerd her speak of Mrs Harris!'

'Never mind,' said John. 'You know it is not true.'

'Isn't true!' cried Mrs Gamp. 'True! Don't I know as that dear woman
is expecting of me at this minnit, Mr Westlock, and is a-lookin' out of
window down the street, with little Tommy Harris in her arms, as calls
me his own Gammy, and truly calls, for bless the mottled little legs
of that there precious child (like Canterbury Brawn his own dear father
says, which so they are) his own I have been, ever since I found him,
Mr Westlock, with his small red worsted shoe a-gurglin' in his throat,
where he had put it in his play, a chick, wile they was leavin' of
him on the floor a-lookin' for it through the ouse and him a-choakin'
sweetly in the parlour! Oh, Betsey Prig, what wickedness you've showed
this night, but never shall you darken Sairey's doors agen, you twining
serpiant!'

'You were always so kind to her, too!' said John, consolingly.

'That's the cutting part. That's where it hurts me, Mr Westlock,' Mrs
Gamp