David Copperfield
came composed.
‘Old clothes,’ said Mr. Barkis.
‘Oh!’ said I.
‘I wish it was Money, sir,’ said Mr. Barkis.
‘I wish it was, indeed,’ said I.
‘But it AIN’T,’ said Mr. Barkis, opening both his eyes as
wide as he possibly could.
I expressed myself quite sure of that, and Mr. Barkis,
turning his eyes more gently to his wife, said:
‘She’s the usefullest and best of women, C. P. Barkis. All
the praise that anyone can give to C. P. Barkis, she deserves,
and more! My dear, you’ll get a dinner today, for company;
something good to eat and drink, will you?’
I should have protested against this unnecessary dem-
onstration in my honour, but that I saw Peggotty, on the
opposite side of the bed, extremely anxious I should not. So
I held my peace.
‘I have got a trifle of money somewhere about me, my
dear,’ said Mr. Barkis, ‘but I’m a little tired. If you and Mr.
David will leave me for a short nap, I’ll try and find it when
I wake.’
We left the room, in compliance with this request. When
we got outside the door, Peggotty informed me that Mr.
Barkis, being now ‘a little nearer’ than he used to be, always
resorted to this same device before producing a single coin
from his store; and that he endured unheard-of agonies in
crawling out of bed alone, and taking it from that unlucky
box. In effect, we presently heard him uttering suppressed
groans of the most dismal nature, as this magpie proceed-