'You are quite right, my dear madam, and I appreciate and thank you for your discriminating objection--our respected relative, to dispose himself to listen to the promptings of nature, and not to the--' 'Go on, Pa!' cried Mercy.
'Why, the truth is, my dear,' said Mr Pecksniff, smiling upon his assembled kindred, 'that I am at a loss for a word.

The name of those fabulous animals (pagan, I regret to say) who used to sing in the water, has quite escaped me.' Mr George Chuzzlewit suggested 'swans.' 'No,' said Mr Pecksniff.

'Not swans.

Very like swans, too.

Thank you.' The nephew with the outline of a countenance, speaking for the first and last time on that occasion, propounded 'Oysters.' 'No,' said Mr Pecksniff, with his own peculiar urbanity, 'nor oysters.
But by no means unlike oysters; a very excellent idea; thank you, my dear sir, very much.