You may well ask what Spottletoes.' 'Now upon my sacred word!' cried Mr Pecksniff, looking upwards.

'This is dreadful.

The rapacity of these people is absolutely frightful!' 'It's not only the Spottletoes either, Tigg,' said Slyme, looking at that gentleman and speaking at Mr Pecksniff.

'Anthony Chuzzlewit and his son have got wind of it, and have come down this afternoon.

I saw 'em not five minutes ago, when I was waiting round the corner.' 'Oh, Mammon, Mammon!' cried Mr Pecksniff, smiting his forehead.
'So there,' said Slyme, regardless of the interruption, 'are his brother and another nephew for you, already.' 'This is the whole thing, sir,' said Mr Tigg; 'this is the point and purpose at which I was gradually arriving when my friend Slyme here, with six words, hit it full.