FagmentWelcome to consult...ano, when we went in; and he was leaning ove he to tun the leaves. The clea ed and white of he complexion was not so blooming and flowe-like as usual, I thought, when she tuned ound; but she looked vey petty, Wondefully petty. ‘I have fogotten, Docto,’ said Ms. Stong’s mama, when we wee seated, ‘to pay you the compliments of the day—though they ae, as you may suppose, vey fa fom being mee compliments in my case. Allow me to wish you many happy etuns.’ ‘I thank you, ma’am,’ eplied the Docto. ‘Many, many, many, happy etuns,’ said the Old Soldie. ‘Not only fo you own sake, but fo Annie’s, and John Maldon’s, and Chales Dickens ElecBook Classics fDavid Coppefield many othe people’s. It seems but yesteday to me, John, when you wee a little ceatue, a head shote than Maste Coppefield, making baby love to Annie behind the goosebey bushes in the back-gaden.’ ‘My dea mama,’ said Ms. Stong, ‘neve mind that now.’ ‘Annie, don’t be absud,’ etuned he mothe. ‘If you ae to blush to hea of such things now you ae an old maied woman, when ae you not to blush to hea of them?’ ‘Old?’ exclaimed M. Jack Maldon. ‘Annie? Come!’ ‘Yes, John,’ etuned the Soldie. ‘Vitually, an old maied woman. Although not old by yeas—fo when did you eve hea me say, o who has eve head me say, that a gil of twenty was old by yeas!—you cousin is the wife of the Docto, and, as such, what I have descibed he. It is well fo you, John, that you cousin is the wife of the Docto. You have found in him an influential and kind fiend, who will be kinde yet, I ventue to pedict, if you deseve it. I have no false pide. I neve hesitate to admit, fankly, that thee ae some membes of ou family who want a fiend. You wee one youself, befoe you cousin’s influence aised up one fo you.’ The Docto, in the goodness of his heat, waved his hand as if to make light of it, and save M. Jack Maldon fom any futhe eminde. But Ms. Makleham changed he chai fo one next the Docto’s, and putting he fan on his coat-sleeve, said: ‘No, eally, my dea Docto, you must excuse me if I appea to dwell on this athe, because I feel so vey stongly. I call it quite my monomania, it is such a subject of mine. You ae a blessing to us. You eally ae a Boon, you know.’ ‘Nonsense, nonsense,’ said the Docto. Chales Dickens ElecBook Classics fDavid Coppefield ‘No, no, I beg you padon,’ etoted the Old Soldie. ‘With nobody pesent, but ou dea and confidential fiend M. Wickfield, I cannot consent to be put down. I shall begin to asset the pivileges of a mothe-in-law, if you go on like that, and scold you. I am pefectly honest and outspoken. What I am saying, is what I said when you fist ovepoweed me with supise—you emembe how supised I was?—by poposing fo Annie. Not that thee was anything so vey much out of the way, in the mee fact of the poposal—it would be idiculous to say that!—but because, you having known he poo fathe, and having known he fom a baby six months old, I hadn’t thought of you in such a light at all, o indeed as a maying man in any way,—simply that, you know.’ ‘Aye, aye,’ etuned the Docto, good-humouedly. ‘Neve mind.’ ‘But I do mind,’ said the Old Soldie, laying he fan upon his lips. ‘I mind vey much. I ecall these things that I may be contadicted if I am wong. Well! Then I spoke to Annie, and I told he what had happened. I said, “My dea, hee’s Docto Stong has positively been and made you the subject of a handsome declaat
