"My friends," says he, "I remember a duty unfulfilled yesterday. It is right that I should be chastened in some penalty. I ought not to murmur. Rachael, pay the eightpence!"
While Mrs. Snagsby, drawing her breath, looks hard at Mr. Snagsby, as who should say, "You hear this apostle!" and while Mr. Chadband glows with humility and train oil, Mrs. Chadband pays the money. It is Mr. Chadband's habit--it is the head and front of his pretensions indeed--to keep this sort of debtor and creditor account in the smallest items and to post it publicly on the most trivial occasions.
"My friends," says Chadband, "eightpence is not much; it might justly have been one and fourpence; it might justly have been half a crown. O let us be joyful, joyful! O let us be joyful!"

"My friends," says he, "I remember a duty unfulfilled yesterday. It is right that I should be chastened in some penalty. Rachael, pay the eightpence!"
While Mr. Chadband glows with humility and train oil, Mrs. Chadband pays the money.
"My friends," says Chadband, "eightpence is not much; it might have been half a crown. O let us be joyful, joyful!"
