'Fetch Mr. Bounderby down!' cried Mrs. Sparsit. 'Rachael, young
woman; you know who this is?'
'It's Mrs. Pegler,' said Rachael.
'I should think it is!' cried Mrs. Sparsit, exulting. 'Fetch Mr.
Bounderby. Stand away, everybody!' Here old Mrs. Pegler, muffling
herself up, and shrinking from observation, whispered a word of
entreaty. 'Don't tell me,' said Mrs. Sparsit, aloud. 'I have told
you twenty times, coming along, that I will not leave you till I
have handed you over to him myself.'
Mr. Bounderby now appeared, accompanied by Mr. Gradgrind and the
whelp, with whom he had been holding conference up-stairs. Mr.
Bounderby looked more astonished than hospitable, at sight of this
uninvited party in his dining-room.
'Why, what's the matter now!' said he. 'Mrs. Sparsit, ma'am?'
'Sir,' explained that worthy woman, 'I trust it is my good fortune
to produce a person you have much desired to find. Stimulated by
my wish to relieve your mind, sir, and connecting together such
imperfect clues to the part of the country in which that person
might be supposed to reside, as have been afforded by the young
woman, Rachael, fortunately now present to identify, I have had the
happiness to succeed, and to bring that person with me - I need not
say most unwillingly on her part.
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