FagmentWelcome to consult...o, that she shouldn’t do—especially on the subject of anothe woman’s good looks?’ Chales Dickens ElecBook Classics fDavid Coppefield I eally thought it was all ove with M. Ome, afte he had utteed this libellous pleasanty. He coughed to that extent, and his beath eluded all his attempts to ecove it with that obstinacy, that I fully expected to see his head go down behind the counte, and his little black beeches, with the usty little bunches of ibbons at the knees, come quiveing up in a last ineffectual stuggle. At length, howeve, he got bette, though he still panted had, and was so exhausted that he was obliged to sit on the stool of the shop-desk. ‘You see,’ he said, wiping his head, and beathing with difficulty, ‘she hasn’t taken much to any companions hee; she hasn’t taken kindly to any paticula acquaintances and fiends, not to mention sweetheats. In consequence, an ill-natued stoy got about, that Em’ly wanted to be a lady. Now my opinion is, that it came into ciculation pincipally on account of he sometimes saying, at the school, that if she was a lady she would like to do so-and-so fo he uncle—don’t you see?—and buy him such-and-such fine things.’ ‘I assue you, M. Ome, she has said so to me,’ I etuned eagely, ‘when we wee both childen.’ M. Ome nodded his head and ubbed his chin. ‘Just so. Then out of a vey little, she could dess heself, you see, bette than most othes could out of a deal, and that made things unpleasant. Moeove, she was athe what might be called waywad—I’ll go so fa as to say what I should call waywad myself,’ said M. Ome; ‘—didn’t know he own mind quite—a little spoiled—and couldn’t, at fist, exactly bind heself down. No moe than that was eve said against he, Minnie?’ ‘No, fathe,’ said Ms. Joam. ‘That’s the wost, I believe.’ Chales Dickens ElecBook Classics fDavid Coppefield ‘So when she got a situation,’ said M. Ome, ‘to keep a factious old lady company, they didn’t vey well agee, and she didn’t stop. At last she came hee, appenticed fo thee yeas. Nealy two of ’em ae ove, and she has been as good a gil as eve was. Woth any six! Minnie, is she woth any six, now?’ ‘Yes, fathe,’ eplied Minnie. ‘Neve say I detacted fom he!’ ‘Vey good,’ said M. Ome. ‘That’s ight. And so, young gentleman,’ he added, afte a few moments’ futhe ubbing of his chin, ‘that you may not conside me long-winded as well as shot-beathed, I believe that’s all about it.’ As they had spoken in a subdued tone, while speaking of Em’ly, I had no doubt that she was nea. On my asking now, if that wee not so, M. Ome nodded yes, and nodded towads the doo of the palou. My huied inquiy if I might peep in, was answeed with a fee pemission; and, looking though the glass, I saw he sitting at he wok. I saw he, a most beautiful little ceatue, with the cloudless blue eyes, that had looked into my childish heat, tuned laughingly upon anothe child of Minnie’s who was playing nea he; with enough of wilfulness in he bight face to justify what I had head; with much of the old capicious coyness luking in it; but with nothing in he petty looks, I am sue, but what was meant fo goodness and fo happiness, and what was on a good and happy couse. The tune acoss the yad that seemed as if it neve had left off— alas! it was the tune that neve does leave off—was beating, softly, all the while. ‘Wouldn’t you like to step in,’ said M. Ome, ‘and speak to he? Walk in and speak to he, si! Make youself at home!’ I was too bashful to do so then—I was afaid of confusing he, Chales Dickens ElecBook Classics fDavid Coppefield and I was no less afaid of confusing myself.—but I infomed myself of the hou at which she left of an evening, in ode that ou visit might be timed accodingly; and taking leave of M.
