"And the sooner the better,
I think."
"Poor people," said Mr. Tetterby, "ought not to have children at
all. They give US no pleasure."
He was at that moment taking up the cup which Mrs. Tetterby had
rudely pushed towards him, and Mrs. Tetterby was lifting her own
cup to her lips, when they both stopped, as if they were
transfixed.
"Here! Mother! Father!" cried Johnny, running into the room.
"Here's Mrs. William coming down the street!"
And if ever, since the world began, a young boy took a baby from a
cradle with the care of an old nurse, and hushed and soothed it
tenderly, and tottered away with it cheerfully, Johnny was that
boy, and Moloch was that baby, as they went out together!
Mr. Tetterby put down his cup; Mrs. Tetterby put down her cup. Mr.
Tetterby rubbed his forehead; Mrs. Tetterby rubbed hers. Mr.
Tetterby's face began to smooth and brighten; Mrs. Tetterby's began
to smooth and brighten.
"Why, Lord forgive me," said Mr. Tetterby to himself, "what evil
tempers have I been giving way to? What has been the matter here!"
"How could I ever treat him ill again, after all I said and felt
last night!" sobbed Mrs. Tetterby, with her apron to her eyes.
"Am I a brute," said Mr. Tetterby, "or is there any good in me at
all? Sophia! My little woman!"
"'Dolphus dear," returned his wife.
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