David Copperfieldcupied by Mrs. Henry Spiker’s brother, became vacant, in
consequence of his indisposition. A very gentlemanly man,
Mrs. Henry Spiker’s brother, Mr. Copperfield.’
I murmured an assent, which was full of feeling, consid-
ering that I knew nothing at all about him; and I inquired
what Mr. Traddles was by profession.
‘Traddles,’ returned Mr. Waterbrook, ‘is a young man
reading for the bar. Yes. He is quite a good fellow - nobody’s
enemy but his own.’
‘Is he his own enemy?’ said I, sorry to hear this.
‘Well,’ returned Mr. Waterbrook, pursing up his mouth,
and playing with his watch-chain, in a comfortable, pros-
perous sort of way. ‘I should say he was one of those men
who stand in their own light. Yes, I should say he would
never, for example, be worth five hundred pound. Traddles
was recommended to me by a professional friend. Oh yes.
Yes. He has a kind of talent for drawing briefs, and stating
a case in writing, plainly. I am able to throw something in
Traddles’s way, in the course of the year; something - for
him - considerable. Oh yes. Yes.’
I was much impressed by the extremely comfortable and
satisfied manner in which Mr. Waterbrook delivered him-
self of this little word ‘Yes’, every now and then. There was
wonderful expression in it. It completely conveyed the idea
of a man who had been born, not to say with a silver spoon,
but with a scaling-ladder, and had gone on mounting all the
heights of life one after another, until now he looked, from
the top of the fortifications, with the eye of a philosopher
and a patron, on the people down in the trenches.