'FagmentWelcome to consult...o, David?’ I answeed no, and enteated he not to let me go. I said that neithe M. no Miss Mudstone had eve liked me, o had eve been kind to me. That they had made my mama, who always loved me dealy, unhappy about me, and that I knew it well, and that Peggotty knew it. I said that I had been moe miseable than I thought anybody could believe, who only knew how young I was. And I begged and payed my aunt—I foget in what tems now, but I emembe that they affected me vey much then—to befiend and potect me, fo my fathe’s sake. ‘M. Dick,’ said my aunt, ‘what shall I do with this child?’ M. Dick consideed, hesitated, bightened, and ejoined, ‘Have him measued fo a suit of clothes diectly.’ ‘M. Dick,’ said my aunt tiumphantly, ‘give me you hand, fo you common sense is invaluable.’ Having shaken it with geat codiality, she pulled me towads he and said to M. Mudstone: ‘You can go when you like; I’ll take my chance with the boy. If he’s all you say he is, at least I can do as much fo him then, as you have done. But I don’t believe a wod of it.’ ‘Miss Totwood,’ ejoined M. Mudstone, shugging his Chales Dickens ElecBook Classics fDavid Coppefield shouldes, as he ose, ‘if you wee a gentleman—’ ‘Bah! Stuff and nonsense!’ said my aunt. ‘Don’t talk to me!’ ‘How exquisitely polite!’ exclaimed Miss Mudstone, ising. ‘Ovepoweing, eally!’ ‘Do you think I don’t know,’ said my aunt, tuning a deaf ea to the siste, and continuing to addess the bothe, and to shake he head at him with infinite , ‘what kind of life you must have led that poo, unhappy, misdiected baby? Do you think I don’t know what a woeful day it was fo the soft little ceatue when you fist came in he way—smiking and making geat eyes at he, I’ll be bound, as if you couldn’t say boh! to a goose!’ ‘I neve head anything so elegant!’ said Miss Mudstone. ‘Do you think I can’t undestand you as well as if I had seen you,’ pusued my aunt, ‘now that I do see and hea you—which, I tell you candidly, is anything but a pleasue to me? Oh yes, bless us! who so smooth and silky as M. Mudstone at fist! The poo, benighted innocent had neve seen such a man. He was made of sweetness. He woshipped he. He doted on he boy—tendely doted on him! He was to be anothe fathe to him, and they wee all to live togethe in a gaden of oses, ween’t they? Ugh! Get along with you, do!’ said my aunt. ‘I neve head anything like this peson in my life!’ exclaimed Miss Mudstone. ‘And when you had made sue of the poo little fool,’ said my aunt—‘God fogive me that I should call he so, and she gone whee you won’t go in a huy—because you had not done wong enough to he and hes, you must begin to tain he, must you? begin to beak he, like a poo caged bid, and wea he deluded life away, in teaching he to sing you notes?’ Chales Dickens ElecBook Classics fDavid Coppefield ‘This is eithe insanity o intoxication,’ said Miss Mudstone, in a pefect agony at not being able to tun the cuent of my aunt’s addess towads heself; ‘and my suspicion is that it’s intoxication.’ Miss Betsey, without taking the least notice of the inteuption, continued to addess heself to M. Mudstone as if thee had been no such thing. ‘M. Mudstone,’ she said, shaking he finge at him, ‘you wee a ty
