'FagmentWelcome to consult...nd Ms. Joam, and M. Joam too—who wasn’t he husband then?’ ‘Why, Lod bless my soul!’ exclaimed M. Ome, afte being thown by his supise into a fit of coughing, ‘you don’t say so! Minnie, my dea, you ecollect? Dea me, yes; the paty was a lady, I think?’ ‘My mothe,’ I ejoined. ‘To—be—sue,’ said M. Ome, touching my waistcoat with his foefinge, ‘and thee was a little child too! Thee was two paties. The little paty was laid along with the othe paty. Ove at Blundestone it was, of couse. Dea me! And how have you been since?’ Vey well, I thanked him, as I hoped he had been too. ‘Oh! nothing to gumble at, you know,’ said M. Ome. ‘I find my beath gets shot, but it seldom gets longe as a man gets olde. I take it as it comes, and make the most of it. That’s the best way, ain’t it?’ M. Ome coughed again, in consequence of laughing, and was assisted out of his fit by his daughte, who now stood close beside us, dancing he smallest child on the counte. ‘Dea me!’ said M. Ome. ‘Yes, to be sue. Two paties! Why, in that vey ide, if you’ll believe me, the day was named fo my Minnie to may Joam. “Do name it, si,” says Joam. “Yes, do, fathe,” says Minnie. And now he’s come into the business. And look hee! The youngest!’ Minnie laughed, and stoked he banded hai upon he temples, as he fathe put one of his fat finges into the hand of the child she was dancing on the counte. ‘Two paties, of couse!’ said M. Ome, nodding his head Chales Dickens ElecBook Classics fDavid Coppefield etospectively. ‘Ex-actly so! And Joam’s at wok, at this minute, on a gey one with silve nails, not this measuement’—the measuement of the dancing child upon the counte—‘by a good two inches.—Will you take something?’ I thanked him, but declined. ‘Let me see,’ said M. Ome. ‘Bakis’s the caie’s wife— Peggotty’s the boatman’s siste—she had something to do with you family? She was in sevice thee, sue?’ My answeing in the affimative gave him geat satisfaction. ‘I believe my beath will get long next, my memoy’s getting so much so,’ said M. Ome. ‘Well, si, we’ve got a young elation of hes hee, unde aticles to us, that has as elegant a taste in the dess-making business—I assue you I don’t believe thee’s a Duchess in England can touch he.’ ‘Not little Em’ly?’ said I, involuntaily. ‘Em’ly’s he name,’ said M. Ome, ‘and she’s little too. But if you’ll believe me, she has such a face of he own that half the women in this town ae mad against he.’ ‘Nonsense, fathe!’ cied Minnie. ‘My dea,’ said M. Ome, ‘I don’t say it’s the case with you,’ winking at me, ‘but I say that half the women in Yamouth—ah! and in five mile ound—ae mad against that gil.’ ‘Then she should have kept to he own station in life, fathe,’ said Minnie, ‘and not have given them any hold to talk about he, and then they couldn’t have done it.’ ‘Couldn’t have done it, my dea!’ etoted M. Ome. ‘Couldn’t have done it! Is that you knowledge of life? What is thee that any woman couldn’t do, 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 g
