`And I have been,' added Nicholas, `already in town for some days, without having had an opportunity of doing so.'
`It's no matter, sir,' said Mr Kenwigs. `I dare say it's none the worse for keeping cold. Message from the country!' said Mr Kenwigs, ruminating;`that's curious. I don't know anybody in the country.'
`Miss Petowker,' suggested Nicholas.
`Oh! from her, is it?' said Mr Kenwigs. `Oh dear, yes. Ah! Mrs Kenwigs will be glad to hear from her. Henrietta Petowker, eh? How odd things come about, now! That you should have met her in the country! Well!'
Hearing this mention of their old friend's name, the four Miss Kenwigses gathered round Nicholas, open eyed and mouthed, to hear more. Mr Kenwigs looked a little curious too, but quite comfortable and unsuspecting.
`The message relates to family matters,' said Nicholas, hesitating.
`Oh, never mind,' said Kenwigs, glancing at Mr Lumbey, who, having rashly taken charge of little Lillyvick, found nobody disposed to relieve him of his precious burden. `All friends here.'
Nicholas hemmed once or twice, and seemed to have some difficulty in proceeding.
`At Portsmouth, Henrietta Petowker is,' observed Mr Kenwigs.
`Yes,' said Nicholas, `Mr Lillyvick is there.'
Mr Kenwigs turned pale, but he recovered, and said, that was an odd coincidence also.
`The message is from him,' said Nicholas.
Mr Kenwigs appeared to revive. He knew that his niece was in a delicate state, and had, no doubt, sent word that they were to forward full particulars.
Yes. That was very kind of him -- so like him too!
`He desired me to give his kindest love,' said Nicholas.
`Very much obliged to him, I'm sure. Your great-uncle, Lillyvick, my dears!' interposed Mr Kenwigs, condescendingly explaining it to the children.
`His kindest love,' resumed Nicholas; `and to say that he had no time to write, but that he was married to Miss Petowker.'
Mr Kenwigs started from his seat with a petrified stare, caught his second daughter by her flaxen tail, and covered his face with his pocket-handkerchief.
Morleena fell, all stiff and rigid, into the baby's chair, as she had seen her mother fall when she fainted away, and the two remaining little Kenwigses shrieked in affright.
`My children, my defrauded, swindled infants!' cried Mr Kenwigs, pulling so hard, in his vehemence, at the flaxen tail of his second daughter, that he lifted her up on tiptoe, and kept her, for some seconds, in that attitude.
`Villain, ass, traitor!'
`Drat the man!' cried the nurse, looking angrily around. `What does he mean by ****** that noise here?'
`Silence, woman!' said Mr Kenwigs, fiercely.
`I won't be silent,' returned the nurse. `Be silent yourself, you wretch.
Have you no regard for your baby?'
`No!' returned Mr Kenwigs.
`More shame for you,' retorted the nurse. `Ugh! you unnatural monster.'
`Let him die,' cried Mr Kenwigs, in the torrent of his wrath. `Let him die! He has no expectations, no property to come into. We want no babies here,' said Mr Kenwigs recklessly. `Take 'em away, take 'em away to the Fondling!'
With these awful remarks, Mr Kenwigs sat himself down in a chair, and defied the nurse, who made the best of her way into the adjoining room, and returned with a stream of matrons: declaring that Mr Kenwigs had spoken blasphemy against his family, and must be raving mad.