FagmentWelcome to consult..., with an ai of self-denial, ‘my eading is hadly to be called study. I have passed an hou o two in the evening, sometimes, with M. Tidd.’ ‘Rathe had, I suppose?’ said I. ‘He is had to me sometimes,’ etuned Uiah. ‘But I don’t know what he might be to a gifted peson.’ Afte beating a little tune on his chin as he walked on, with the two foefinges of his skeleton ight hand, he added: ‘Thee ae s, you see, Maste Coppefield—Latin wods and tems—in M. Tidd, that ae tying to a eade of my umble attainments.’ ‘Would you like to be taught Latin?’ I said biskly. ‘I will teach it you with pleasue, as I lean it.’ ‘Oh, thank you, Maste Coppefield,’ he answeed, shaking his head. ‘I am sue it’s vey kind of you to make the offe, but I am much too umble to accept it.’ ‘What nonsense, Uiah!’ ‘Oh, indeed you must excuse me, Maste Coppefield! I am geatly obliged, and I should like it of all things, I assue you; but I am fa too umble. Thee ae people enough to tead upon me in my lowly state, without my doing outage to thei feelings by Chales Dickens ElecBook Classics fDavid Coppefield possessing leaning. Leaning ain’t fo me. A peson like myself had bette not aspie. If he is to get on in life, he must get on umbly, Maste Coppefield!’ I neve saw his mouth so wide, o the ceases in his cheeks so deep, as when he deliveed himself of these sentiments: shaking his head all the time, and withing modestly. ‘I think you ae wong, Uiah,’ I said. ‘I dae say thee ae seveal things that I could teach you, if you would like to lean them.’ ‘Oh, I don’t doubt that, Maste Coppefield,’ he answeed; ‘not in the least. But not being umble youself, you don’t judge well, pehaps, fo them that ae. I won’t povoke my bettes with knowledge, thank you. I’m much too umble. Hee is my umble dwelling, Maste Coppefield!’ We enteed a low, old-fashioned oom, walked staight into fom the steet, and found thee Ms. Heep, who was the dead image of Uiah, only shot. She eceived me with the utmost humility, and apologized to me fo giving he son a kiss, obseving that, lowly as they wee, they had thei natual affections, which they hoped would give no offence to anyone. It was a pefectly decent oom, half palou and half kitchen, but not at all a snug oom. The tea-things wee set upon the table, and the kettle was boiling on the hob. Thee was a chest of dawes with an escitoie top, fo Uiah to ead o wite at of an evening; thee was Uiah’s blue bag lying down and vomiting papes; thee was a company of Uiah’s books commanded by M. Tidd; thee was a cone cupboad: and thee wee the usual aticles of funitue. I don’t emembe that any individual object had a bae, pinched, spae look; but I do emembe that the whole place had. Chales Dickens ElecBook Classics fDavid Coppefield It was pehaps a pat of Ms. Heep’s humility, that she still woe weeds. Notwithstanding the lapse of time that had occued since M. Heep’s decease, she still woe weeds. I think thee was some compomise in the cap; but othewise she was as weedy as in the ealy days of he mouning. ‘This is a day to be emembeed, my Uiah, I am sue,’ said Ms. Heep, making the tea, ‘when Maste Coppefield pays us a visit.’ ‘I said you’d think so, mothe,’ said Uiah. ‘If I could have wished fathe to emain among us fo any eason,’ said Ms. Heep, ‘it would have been, that he might have known his company this aftenoon.’ I felt embaassed by these compliments; but I was sensible, too, of being entetained as an hon
