Mrs Pullet entered crying, as a compendious mode, at all times, of expressing what were her views of life in general, and what, in brief, were the opinions she held concerning the particular case before her. Mrs Glegg had on her fuzziest front, and garments which appeared to have had a recent resurrection from rather a creasy form of burial; a costume selected with the high moral purpose of instilling perfect humility into Bessy and her children. “Mrs G., won’t you come nearer the fire?” said her husband, unwilling to take the more comfortable seat without offering it to her. “You see I’ve seated myself here, Mr Glegg,” returned this superior woman; “_you_ can roast yourself, if you like.” “Well,” said Mr Glegg, seating himself good-humouredly, “and how’s the poor man upstairs?” “Dr Turnbull thought him a deal better this morning,” said Mrs Tulliver; “he took more notice, and spoke to me; but he’s never known Tom yet,—looks at the poor lad as if he was a stranger, though he said something once about Tom and the pony. The doctor says his memory’s gone a long way back, and he doesn’t know Tom because he’s thinking of him when he was little. Eh dear, eh dear!” “I doubt it’s the water got on his brain,” said aunt Pullet, turning round from adjusting her cap in a melancholy way at the pier-glass. “It’s much if he ever gets up again; and if he does, he’ll most like be childish, as Mr Carr was, poor man! They fed him with a spoon as if he’d been a babby for three year. He’d quite lost the use of his limbs; but then he’d got a Bath chair, and somebody to draw him; and that’s what you won’t have, I doubt, Bessy.” “Sister Pullet,” said Mrs Glegg, severely, “if I understand right, we’ve come together this morning to advise and consult about what’s to be done in this disgrace as has fallen upon the family, and not to talk o’ people as don’t belong to us. Mr Carr was none of our blood, nor noways connected with us, as I’ve ever heared.” “Sister Glegg,” said Mrs Pullet, in a pleading tone, drawing on her gloves again, and stroking the fingers in an agitated manner, “if you’ve got anything disrespectful to say o’ Mr Carr, I do beg of you as you won’t say it to me. _I_ know what he was,” she added, with a sigh; “his breath was short to that degree as you could hear him two rooms off.” “Sophy!” said Mrs Glegg, with indignant disgust, “you _do_ talk o’ people’s complaints till it’s quite undecent. But I say again, as I said before, I didn’t come away from home to talk about acquaintances, whether they’d short breath or long. If we aren’t come together for one to hear what the other ’ull do to save a sister and her children from the parish, _I_ shall go back. _One_ can’t act without the other, I suppose; it isn’t to be expected as _I_ should do everything.”