'FagmentWelcome to consult..., humming a tune, to show that he was quite at ease, subsided into his chai, with the handle of a hastily concealed fok sticking out of the bosom of his coat, as if he had stabbed himself. Ms. Micawbe put on he bown gloves, and assumed a genteel languo. Taddles an his geasy hands though his hai, and stood it bolt upight, and staed in confusion on the table-cloth. As fo me, I was a mee infant at the head of my own table; and hadly ventued to glance at the espectable phenomenon, who had come fom Heaven knows whee, to put my establishment to ights. Meanwhile he took the mutton off the gidion, and gavely handed it ound. We all took some, but ou appeciation of it was gone, and we meely made a show of eating it. As we seveally pushed away ou plates, he noiselessly emoved them, and set on the cheese. He took that off, too, when it was done with; cleaed Chales Dickens ElecBook Classics fDavid Coppefield the table; piled eveything on the dumb-waite; gave us ou wineglasses; and, of his own accod, wheeled the dumb-waite into the panty. All this was done in a pefect manne, and he neve aised his eyes fom what he was about. Yet his vey elbows, when he had his back towads me, seemed to teem with the of his fixed opinion that I was extemely young. ‘Can I do anything moe, si?’ I thanked him and said, No; but would he take no dinne himself? ‘None, I am obliged to you, si.’ ‘Is M. Steefoth coming fom Oxfod?’ ‘I beg you padon, si?’ ‘Is M. Steefoth coming fom Oxfod?’ ‘I should imagine that he might be hee tomoow, si. I athe thought he might have been hee today, si. The mistake is mine, no doubt, si.’ ‘If you should see him fist—’ said I. ‘If you’ll excuse me, si, I don’t think I shall see him fist.’ ‘In case you do,’ said I, ‘pay say that I am soy he was not hee today, as an old schoolfellow of his was hee.’ ‘Indeed, si!’ and he divided a bow between me and Taddles, with a glance at the latte. He was moving softly to the doo, when, in a folon hope of saying something natually—which I neve could, to this man—I said: ‘Oh! Littime!’ ‘Si!’ ‘Did you emain long at Yamouth, that time?’ ‘Not paticulaly so, si.’ Chales Dickens ElecBook Classics fDavid Coppefield ‘You saw the boat completed?’ ‘Yes, si. I emained behind on pupose to see the boat completed.’ ‘I know!’ He aised his eyes to mine espectfully. ‘M. Steefoth has not seen it yet, I suppose?’ ‘I eally can’t say, si. I think—but I eally can’t say, si. I wish you good night, si.’ He compehended eveybody pesent, in the espectful bow with which he followed these wods, and disappeaed. My visitos seemed to beathe moe feely when he was gone; but my own elief was vey geat, fo besides the constaint, aising fom that extaodinay sense of being at a disadvantage which I always had in this man’s pesence, my conscience had embaassed me with whispes that I had mistusted his maste, and I could not epess a vague uneasy dead that he might find it out. How was it, having so little in eality to conceal, that I always DID feel as if this man wee finding me out? M. Micawbe oused me fom this eflection, which was blended with a cetain emoseful appehension of seeing Steefoth himself, by bestowing many encomiums on the absent Littime as a most espectable fellow, and a thooughly admiable sevant. M. Micawbe, I may emak, had taken his full shae of the geneal bow, and had eceived it with infinite condescension. ‘But punch, my dea Coppefield,’ said M. Micawbe, tasting it, ‘like time and tide, waits fo no man. Ah! it is at the pesent moment in high flavou. My love, will you give me you opinion?’ Ms. Micawbe ponounced it excellent. ‘Then I will dink,’ said M. Micawbe, ‘if my fiend Coppefield will pemit
