0 David Copperfield
and we were perfectly contented with ourselves and one an-
other.
The gentle cheerfulness of Agnes went to all their hearts.
Her quiet interest in everything that interested Dora; her
manner of making acquaintance with Jip (who responded
instantly); her pleasant way, when Dora was ashamed to
come over to her usual seat by me; her modest grace and
ease, eliciting a crowd of blushing little marks of confidence
from Dora; seemed to make our circle quite complete.
‘I am so glad,’ said Dora, after tea, ‘that you like me. I
didn’t think you would; and I want, more than ever, to be
liked, now Julia Mills is gone.’
I have omitted to mention it, by the by. Miss Mills had
sailed, and Dora and I had gone aboard a great East India-
man at Gravesend to see her; and we had had preserved
ginger, and guava, and other delicacies of that sort for
lunch; and we had left Miss Mills weeping on a camp-stool
on the quarter-deck, with a large new diary under her arm,
in which the original reflections awakened by the contem-
plation of Ocean were to be recorded under lock and key.
Agnes said she was afraid I must have given her an un-
promising character; but Dora corrected that directly.
‘Oh no!’ she said, shaking her curls at me; ‘it was all
praise. He thinks so much of your opinion, that I was quite
afraid of it.’
‘My good opinion cannot strengthen his attachment to
some people whom he knows,’ said Agnes, with a smile; ‘it
is not worth their having.’
‘But please let me have it,’ said Dora, in her coaxing way,