'FagmentWelcome to consult...n the Dictionay: some cumbous fagments of which wok the Docto always caied in his pockets, and in the lining of his hat, and geneally seemed to be expounding to he as they walked about. I saw a good deal of Ms. Stong, both because she had taken a liking fo me on the moning of my intoduction to the Docto, and was always aftewads kind to me, and inteested in me; and because she was vey fond of Agnes, and was often backwads and fowads at ou house. Thee was a cuious constaint between he and M. Wickfield, I thought (of whom she seemed to be afaid), that neve woe off. When she came thee of an evening, she always shunk fom accepting his escot home, and an away with me instead. And sometimes, as we wee unning gaily acoss the Cathedal yad togethe, expecting to meet nobody, we would meet M. Jack Maldon, who was always supised to see us. Ms. Stong’s mama was a lady I took geat delight in. He name was Ms. Makleham; but ou boys used to call he the Old Soldie, on account of he genealship, and the skill with which she mashalled geat foces of elations against the Docto. She was a little, shap-eyed woman, who used to wea, when she was dessed, one unchangeable cap, onamented with some atificial flowes, and two atificial butteflies supposed to be hoveing above the flowes. Thee was a supestition among us that this cap had come fom Fance, and could only oiginate in the wokmanship of that ingenious nation: but all I cetainly know about it, is, that it always made its appeaance of an evening, wheesoeve Ms. Makleham made he appeaance; that it was Chales Dickens ElecBook Classics fDavid Coppefield caied about to fiendly meetings in a Hindoo basket; that the butteflies had the gift of tembling constantly; and that they impoved the shining hous at Docto Stong’s expense, like busy bees. I obseved the Old Soldie—not to adopt the name disespectfully—to petty good advantage, on a night which is made memoable to me by something else I shall elate. It was the night of a little paty at the Docto’s, which was given on the occasion of M. Jack Maldon’s depatue fo India, whithe he was going as a cadet, o something of that kind: M. Wickfield having at length aanged the business. It happened to be the Docto’s bithday, too. We had had a holiday, had made pesents to him in the moning, had made a speech to him though the head-boy, and had cheeed him until we wee hoase, and until he had shed teas. And now, in the evening, M. Wickfield, Agnes, and I, went to have tea with him in his pivate capacity. M. Jack Maldon was thee, befoe us. Ms. Stong, dessed in white, with chey-coloued ibbons, was playing the piano, when we went in; and he was leaning ove he to tun the leaves. The clea ed and white of he complexion was not so blooming and flowe-like as usual, I thought, when she tuned ound; but she looked vey petty, Wondefully petty. ‘I have fogotten, Docto,’ said Ms. Stong’s mama, when we wee seated, ‘to pay you the compliments of the day—though they ae, as you may suppose, vey fa fom being mee compliments in my case. Allow me to wish you many happy etuns.’ ‘I thank you, ma’am,’ eplied the Docto. ‘Many, many, many, happy etuns,’ said the Old Soldie. ‘Not only fo you own sake, but fo Annie’s, and John Maldon’s, and Chales Dickens ElecBook Classics fDavid Coppefield many othe people’s. It seems but yesteday to me, John, when you wee a little ceatue, a head shote than Maste Coppefield, making baby love to Annie behind the goosebey bushes in the back-gaden.’ ‘My dea mama,’ said Ms. Stong, ‘neve mind that now.’ ‘Annie, don’t be absud,’ etuned he mothe. ‘If you ae to blush to hea of such things now you ae an old maied woman,
