 here was Mrs. General, got home from foreign parts, sending a Prune and a
Prism by post every other day, demanding a new Testimonial by way of
recommendation to some vacant appointment or other. Of which remarkable
gentlewoman it may be finally observed, that there surely never was a
gentlewoman of whose transcendent fitness for any vacant appointment on the face
of this earth, so many people were (as the warmth of her Testimonials evinced)
so perfectly satisfied - or who was so very unfortunate in having a large circle
of ardent and distinguished admirers, who never themselves happened to want her,
in any capacity.
    On the first crash of the eminent Mr. Merdle's decease, many important
persons had been unable to determine whether they should cut Mrs. Merdle, or
comfort her. As it seemed, however, essential to the strength of their own case
that they should admit her to have been cruelly deceived, they graciously made
the admission, and continued to know her. It followed that Mrs. Merdle, as a
woman of fashion and good breeding, who had been sacrificed to the wiles of a
vulgar barbarian (for Mr. Merdle was found out from the crown of his head to the
sole of his foot, the moment he was found out in his pocket), must be actively
championed by her order, for her order's sake. She returned this fealty, by
causing it to be understood that she was even more incensed against the
felonious shade of the deceased than anybody else was; thus, on the whole, she
came out of her furnace like a wise woman, and did exceedingly well.
    Mr. Sparkler's lordship was fortunately one of those shelves on which a
gentleman is considered to be put away for life, unless there should be reasons
for hoisting him up with the Barnacle crane to a more lucrative height. That
patriotic servant accordingly stuck to his colours (the Standard of four
Quarterings), and was a perfect Nelson in respect of nailing them to the mast.
On the profits of his intrepidity, Mrs. Sparkler and Mrs. Merdle, inhabiting
different floors of the genteel little temple of inconvenience to which the
smell of the day before yesterday's soup and coach-horses was as constant as
Death to man, arrayed themselves to fight it out in the lists of Society, sworn
rivals. And Little Dorrit, seeing all these things as they developed themselves,
could not but wonder, anxiously, into what back corner of the genteel
establishment Fanny's children would be poked by-and-by, and who would take care
of those unborn
