 look as if he would like it very much, but he says, with
his cough of mildness, »No, my dear, no. I merely named the time.«
    »What's time,« says Mrs. Snagsby, »to eternity?«
    »Very true, my dear,« says Mr. Snagsby. »Only when a person lays in victuals
for tea, a person does it with a view - perhaps - more to time. And when a time
is named for having tea, it's better to come up to it.«
    »To come up to it!« Mrs. Snagsby repeats with severity. »Up to it! As if Mr.
Chadband was a fighter!«
    »Not at all, my dear,« says Mr. Snagsby.
    Here, Guster, who had been looking out of the bedroom window, comes rustling
and scratching down the little staircase like a popular ghost, and, falling
flushed into the drawing-room, announces that Mr. and Mrs. Chadband have
appeared in the court. The bell at the inner door in the passage immediately
thereafter tinkling, she is admonished by Mrs. Snagsby, on pain of instant
reconsignment to her patron saint, not to omit the ceremony of announcement.
Much discomposed in her nerves (which were previously in the best order) by this
threat, she so fearfully mutilates that point of state as to announce »Mr. and
Mrs. Cheeseming, least which, Imeantersay, whatsername!« and retires
conscience-stricken from the presence.
    Mr. Chadband is a large yellow man, with a fat smile, and a general
appearance of having a good deal of train oil in his system. Mrs. Chadband is a
stern, severe-looking, silent woman. Mr. Chadband moves softly and cumbrously,
not unlike a bear who has been taught to walk upright. He is very much
embarrassed about the arms, as if they were inconvenient to him, and he wanted
to grovel; is very much in a perspiration about the head; and never speaks
without first putting up his great hand, as delivering a token to his hearers
that he is going to edify them.
    »My friends,« says Mr. Chadband, »Peace be on this house! On the master
thereof, on the mistress thereof, on the young maidens, and on the young men! My
friends, why do I wish for peace? What is peace? Is it war? No. Is it strife?
No. Is it lovely, and gentle, and beautiful, and pleasant, and
