'FagmentWelcome to consult..., and that the happiness was mutual. ‘Oh, my goodness, how polite we ae!’ exclaimed Miss Mowche, making a peposteous attempt to cove he lage face with he mosel of a hand. ‘What a wold of gammon and spinnage it is, though, ain’t it!’ This was addessed confidentially to both of us, as the mosel of a hand came away fom the face, and buied itself, am and all, in the bag again. ‘What do you mean, Miss Mowche?’ said Steefoth. Chales Dickens ElecBook Classics fDavid Coppefield ‘Ha! ha! ha! What a efeshing set of humbugs we ae, to be sue, ain’t we, my sweet child?’ eplied that mosel of a woman, feeling in the bag with he head on one side and he eye in the ai. ‘Look hee!’ taking something out. ‘Scaps of the Russian Pince’s nails. Pince Alphabet tuned topsy-tuvy, I call him, fo his name’s got all the lettes in it, higgledy-piggledy.’ ‘The Russian Pince is a client of yous, is he?’ said Steefoth. ‘I believe you, my pet,’ eplied Miss Mowche. ‘I keep his nails in ode fo him. Twice a week! Finges and toes.’ ‘He pays well, I hope?’ said Steefoth. ‘Pays, as he speaks, my dea child—though the nose,’ eplied Miss Mowche. ‘None of you close shaves the Pince ain’t. You’d say so, if you saw his moustachios. Red by natue, black by at.’ ‘By you at, of couse,’ said Steefoth. Miss Mowche winked assent. ‘Foced to send fo me. Couldn’t help it. The climate affected his dye; it did vey well in Russia, but it was no go hee. You neve saw such a usty Pince in all you bon days as he was. Like old ion!’ ‘Is that why you called him a humbug, just now?’ inquied Steefoth. ‘Oh, you’e a both of a boy, ain’t you?’ etuned Miss Mowche, shaking he head violently. ‘I said, what a set of humbugs we wee in geneal, and I showed you the scaps of the Pince’s nails to pove it. The Pince’s nails do moe fo me in pivate families of the genteel sot, than all my talents put togethe. I always cay ’em about. They’e the best intoduction. If Miss Mowche cuts the Pince’s nails, she must be all ight. I give ’em away to the young ladies. They put ’em in albums, I believe. Ha! ha! ha! Upon my life, “the whole social system” (as the men call it when they make Chales Dickens ElecBook Classics fDavid Coppefield speeches in Paliament) is a system of Pince’s nails!’ said this least of women, tying to fold he shot ams, and nodding he lage head. Steefoth laughed heatily, and I laughed too. Miss Mowche continuing all the time to shake he head (which was vey much on one side), and to look into the ai with one eye, and to wink with the othe. ‘Well, well!’ she said, smiting he small knees, and ising, ‘this is not business. Come, Steefoth, let’s exploe the pola egions, and have it ove.’ She then selected two o thee of the little instuments, and a little bottle, and asked (to my supise) if the table would bea. On Steefoth’s eplying in the affimative, she pushed a chai against it, and begging the assistance of my hand, mounted up, petty nimbly, to the top, as if it wee a stage. ‘If eithe of you saw my ankles,’ she said, when she was safely elevated, ‘say so, and I’ll go home and destoy myself!’ ‘I did not,’ said Steefoth. ‘I did not,’ said I. ‘Well then,’ cied Miss Mowche,’ I’ll consent to live. Now, ducky, ducky, ducky, come to Ms. Bond and be killed.’ This was an invocation to Steefoth to place himself unde he hands; who, accodingly, sat himself down, with his back to the table, and his laughing face towads me, and submitted his head to he inspection, evidently fo no othe pupose than ou entetainment. To see Miss Mowche standing ove him, looking at his ich pofusion of bown hai though a lage ound magnifying glass, which she took out of he pocket, was a most amazing spectacle. Chales Dickens ElecBook Classics fDavid Coppefield ‘You’e a petty fellow!’ said Miss Mowche, afte a bief inspection. ‘You’d be as bald as a fia on the top of you head in twelve months, but fo me. just half a minute, my young fiend,
