Mrs. Sanders, whose eyes were
intently fixed on the judge's face, planted herself close by, with
the large umbrella, keeping her right thumb pressed on the spring
with an earnest countenance, as if she were fully prepared to put
it up at a moment's notice.
'Mrs. Cluppins,' said Serjeant Buzfuz, 'pray compose yourself,
ma'am.' Of course, directly Mrs. Cluppins was desired to compose
herself, she sobbed with increased vehemence, and gave
divers alarming manifestations of an approaching fainting fit,
or, as she afterwards said, of her feelings being too many for her.
'Do you recollect, Mrs. Cluppins,' said Serjeant Buzfuz, after
a few unimportant questions--'do you recollect being in Mrs.
Bardell's back one pair of stairs, on one particular morning in
July last, when she was dusting Pickwick's apartment?'
'Yes, my Lord and jury, I do,' replied Mrs. Cluppins.
'Mr. Pickwick's sitting-room was the first-floor front, I believe?'
'Yes, it were, Sir,' replied Mrs. Cluppins.
'What were you doing in the back room, ma'am?' inquired the
little judge.
'My Lord and jury,' said Mrs. Cluppins, with interesting
agitation, 'I will not deceive you.
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