'You should have prevented it, then.' The company were quite paralysed by this domestic crash.

The back-parlour sat with her mouth wide open, staring vacantly at the collector, in a stupor of dismay; the other guests were scarcely less overpowered by the great man's irritation.

Mr Kenwigs, not being skilful in such matters, only fanned the flame in attempting to extinguish it.
'I didn't think of it, I am sure, sir,' said that gentleman.

'I didn't suppose that such a little thing as a glass of punch would have put you out of temper.' 'Out of temper! What the devil do you mean by that piece of impertinence, Mr Kenwigs ?' said the collector.

'Morleena, child--give me my hat.' 'Oh, you're not going, Mr Lillyvick, sir,' interposed Miss Petowker, with her most bewitching smile.
But still Mr Lillyvick, regardless of the siren, cried obdurately, 'Morleena, my hat!' upon the fourth repetition of which demand, Mrs Kenwigs sunk back in her chair, with a cry that might have softened a water-butt, not to say a water-collector; while the four little girls (privately instructed to that effect) clasped their uncle's drab shorts in their arms, and prayed him, in imperfect English, to remain.
'Why should I stop here, my dears ?' said Mr Lillyvick; 'I'm not wanted here.' 'Oh, do not speak so cruelly, uncle,' sobbed Mrs Kenwigs, 'unless you wish to kill me.' 'I shouldn't wonder if some people were to say I did,' replied Mr Lillyvick, glancing angrily at Kenwigs.