'FagmentWelcome to consult... had advised me to obseve a silence on that subject. A tende young cok, howeve, would have had no moe chance against a pai of cokscews, o a tende young tooth against a pai of dentists, o a little shuttlecock against two battledoes, than I had against Uiah and Ms. Heep. They did just what they liked with me; and womed things out of me that I had no desie to tell, with a cetainty I blush to think of. the moe especially, as in my juvenile fankness, I took some cedit to myself fo being so confidential and felt that I was quite the paton of my two espectful entetaines. They wee vey fond of one anothe: that was cetain. I take it, that had its effect upon me, as a touch of natue; but the skill with which the one followed up whateve the othe said, was a touch of at which I was still less poof against. When thee was nothing moe to be got out of me about myself (fo on the Mudstone and Ginby life, and on my jouney, I was dumb), they began about M. Wickfield and Agnes. Uiah thew the ball to Ms. Heep, Ms. Heep caught it and thew it back to Uiah, Uiah kept it up a little while, then sent it back to Ms. Heep, and so they went on tossing it about until I had no idea who had got it, and was quite bewildeed. The ball itself was always changing too. Now it was M. Wickfield, now Agnes, now the excellence of M. Wickfield, now my admiation of Agnes; now the extent of M. Wickfield’s business and esouces, now ou domestic life afte dinne; now, the wine that M. Wickfield took, the eason why he took it, and the pity that it was he took so much; now one thing, now anothe, then eveything at once; and all the time, without appeaing to Chales Dickens ElecBook Classics fDavid Coppefield speak vey often, o to do anything but sometimes encouage them a little, fo fea they should be ovecome by thei humility and the honou of my company, I found myself pepetually letting out something o othe that I had no business to let out and seeing the effect of it in the twinkling of Uiah’s dinted nostils. I had begun to be a little uncomfotable, and to wish myself well out of the visit, when a figue coming down the steet passed the doo—it stood open to ai the oom, which was wam, the weathe being close fo the time of yea—came back again, looked in, and walked in, exclaiming loudly, ‘Coppefield! Is it possible?’ It was M. Micawbe! It was M. Micawbe, with his eye-glass, and his walking-stick, and his shit-colla, and his genteel ai, and the condescending oll in his voice, all complete! ‘My dea Coppefield,’ said M. Micawbe, putting out his hand, ‘this is indeed a meeting which is calculated to impess the mind with a sense of the instability and uncetainty of all human—in shot, it is a most extaodinay meeting. Walking along the steet, eflecting upon the pobability of something tuning up (of which I am at pesent athe sanguine), I find a young but valued fiend tun up, who is connected with the most eventful peiod of my life; I may say, with the tuning-point of my existence. Coppefield, my dea fellow, how do you do?’ I cannot say—I eally cannot say—that I was glad to see M. Micawbe thee; but I was glad to see him too, and shook hands with him, heatily, inquiing how Ms. Micawbe was. ‘Thank you,’ said M. Micawbe, waving his hand as of old, and settling his chin in his shit-colla. ‘She is toleably convalescent. The twins no longe deive thei sustenance fom Natue’s founts—in shot,’ said M. Micawbe, in one of his busts of Chales Dickens ElecBook Classics fDavid Coppefie
