He's your own son, Mr Chuzzlewit! Bless him for a sharp lad! Bless him, bless him!' Mr Jonas considered this so particularly childish (perhaps with some reason), that he only laughed the more, and told his cousins that he was afraid one of these fine days, Chuffey would be the death of him.

The cloth was then removed, and the bottle of wine set upon the table, from which Mr Jonas filled the young ladies' glasses, calling on them not to spare it, as they might be certain there was plenty more where that came from.

But he added with some haste after this sally that it was only his joke, and they wouldn't suppose him to be in earnest, he was sure.
'I shall drink,' said Anthony, 'to Pecksniff.

Your father, my dears.

A clever man, Pecksniff.