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you do, Mr. Chillip?’
He was greatly fluttered by this unexpected address from
a stranger, and replied, in his slow way, ‘I thank you, sir, you
are very good. Thank you, sir. I hope YOU are well.’
‘You don’t remember me?’ said I.
‘Well, sir,’ returned Mr. Chillip, smiling very meekly, and
shaking his head as he surveyed me, ‘I have a kind of an im-
pression that something in your countenance is familiar to
me, sir; but I couldn’t lay my hand upon your name, really.’
‘And yet you knew it, long before I knew it myself,’ I re-
turned.
‘Did I indeed, sir?’ said Mr. Chillip. ‘Is it possible that I
had the honour, sir, of officiating when -?’
‘Yes,’ said I.
‘Dear me!’ cried Mr. Chillip. ‘But no doubt you are a good
deal changed since then, sir?’
‘Probably,’ said I.
‘Well, sir,’ observed Mr. Chillip, ‘I hope you’ll excuse me,
if I am compelled to ask the favour of your name?’
On my telling him my name, he was really moved. He
quite shook hands with me - which was a violent proceed-
ing for him, his usual course being to slide a tepid little
fish-slice, an inch or two in advance of his hip, and evince
the greatest discomposure when anybody grappled with it.
Even now, he put his hand in his coat-pocket as soon as he
could disengage it, and seemed relieved when he had got it
safe back.
‘Dear me, sir!’ said Mr. Chillip, surveying me with his
head on one side. ‘And it’s Mr. Copperfield, is it? Well, sir, I