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Hello and welcome to Storytime for Grown Ups. I'm Faith Moore and this season we're reading David Copperfield by Charles Dickens. Each episode I'll read a few chapters from the book, pausing from time to time to give brief explanations so it's easier to follow along. It's like an audiobook with built in notes. So brew a pot of tea, find a cozy chair and settle in. It's story time. Hi there. Welcome back. So my soda bread was just as delicious as I hoped it would be. And my tea and soda bread was just perfect and wonderful. I feel like a book and a cup of tea and maybe a piece of soda bread or a scone or even like a little cookie or something. That's just bliss to me. That's just heaven. And I feel like, what a wonderful thing that I get to do that. What a wonderful thing that I get to read books and then talk to you about them. It's really just delightful. So thank you for being here. I hope that you enjoyed some soda bread or maybe just are enjoying hearing about my soda bread or whatever it is. I hope that you have some cozy place, some lovely drink of choice in your life, whether you're doing that right now or whether you have other times that you like to do that. But a tea in a book, I don't know. I just think it's the stuff that life is made out of. So I'm here for it. I hope you are too. I'm really excited to keep reading this book with you. Just a very quick reminder that tea time is coming up this coming Tuesday, which is the 24th of March. It's at 8pm Eastern over in our online community, which is called the Drawing Room because it's the drawing room of our lovely Victorian manor, where we withdraw after the show to keep talking about this book and about life in general. It's a really fun time. It's about an hour. We chat. It's like a group phone call. I can hear you. You can hear me, or you can just listen. We'll talk about this book, David Copperfield and where we are so far, but we can also talk about whatever you want. I answer questions, you can ask me anything. And it's just a lovely, wonderful time. So I hope that you will come 8pm Eastern, March 24. That's 20 Tuesday. And if you're not yet a member of the Drawing room, or if you are, but you're not yet a member of the landed gentry membership tier, there's a link in the show notes to sign up or to change your membership and I really hope that you will check that out and potentially join us. I'm really looking forward to chatting with all my old friends and I hope to meet some new ones there too. So please do join us on Tuesday, March 24th at 8:00pm Eastern in the drawing room. Other than that, all the usual things. Please subscribe. Please tell all your friends about this show. Please tap the five stars if you done that yet. Please leave a positive review in your podcast player if you haven't done that. Also please scroll into the show notes if you're interested and check out the links that are there. There's merchandise you can pick up, all kinds of T shirts and mugs and bags and hats. I've been wearing my well said forehead hat around. I love it a lot and I also have a tote bag that I carry with me when I need to carry things around so you can pick up your own things. David Copperfield Merch is Coming. I've had some really great requests for merch that you guys want to see in the store, so I'm working on getting that done and I will let you know when it's there. But do check out the merch store. You can also sign up for the drawing room if you want to do that. And there's also a link to a tip jar if you are interested in making a financial contribution to the show and to support the work I do. And thank you to those of you who have done that. I really, really appreciate it. So helpful for me to be able to generate some income so that I can spend more time on this show instead of on other things. So I really appreciate those financial donations. So you thank thank you so much. There's a link in the show notes to make one if you are able and willing. But of course regardless of whether you click any links, I am so glad that you're here. This podcast is free. It's always going to be free and just listening to it is a way to support it. So thank you for being here. I'm really, really happy that you are okay, so last time we read chapter 20. Today we're going to be reading chapter 21. I got some great comments. It was kind of a short chapter last time, so we're going to talk for a little bit. This is a longer chapter so it all evens out. So we'll do that and then we'll to this chapter. So here is the recap. Okay, so where we left off. Steerforth invites David to come to his house and meet his mother. So after a day of wandering around London, they go there. David's mother is a very upright woman who dotes on Steerforth and feels that he can do no wrong. But she warms to David because David feels that way about Steerforth too. The mother lives with a woman named Ms. Dardle who is her companion. She's in her mid-30s and unmarried and has a very annoying way of pretending that she doesn't know anything while inserting all of her opinions into the conversation. She has a scar on her lip which it turns out that Steerforth gave her when he was younger by throwing a hammer at her. David invites Steerforth to come with him to visit the Peggy's and Steerforth says that he will think about it and he seems interested, but he also says a bunch of kind of disparaging things about people like the Peggy's. Steerforth asks David to stay with him for a week and David is very happy and excited to get to spend so much time with Steerforth, although he's kind of put off by Ms. Dardle. Alright, I'm going to read two comments this time. The first one comes from Anne Brownlee. She says, what a weird chapter. What strange characters. I didn't like Steerforth before and I most assuredly don't like him now. I think his giving David a nickname such as Daisy is an insult that David is too naive to realize. Interestingly, as much as David has been through, he remains an innocent. And the second one comes from Joyce Sekiya. I hope I'm saying that last name correctly. I'm sorry if I'm not. She says in today's reading of chapter 20. I really did not like Ms. Dardle. She talked about lower class people, the Peggotty family, as though they were zoo animals. She acted as though they were less than human. Okay, so yes, I got a lot of letters this time, but I think that these two actually sum them up nicely because you all had kind of a similar reaction. And I would say that the comment I got the most this time was about this nickname that Steerforth gives to David, this Daisy name. Lots and lots of you wrote in to say, like Ann did, that you find this nickname to be really awful. It's infantilizing. It's sort of weird. And many of you said that it makes you really dislike Steerforth in a way that some of you hadn't earlier. I will just point out, and this is not to excuse him or anything because I actually agree with you about Steerforth, but just to point out that Daisy sounds a lot like Davey, which is what David was going by when he was at school with Steerforth. So it's kind of a play on that. But it's still infantilizing because obviously the point of it is that David is very young and innocent and not at all jaded the way that Steerforth seems to be. I think it's worth noting, and I did get some letters pointing this out as well, but I think it's worth noting that David is almost never or may not ever be called David. He is Davy or Master Copperfield or just Copperfield. Then he's Trotwood or Trot, and now he's Daisy. Actually, the only person who has called him David so far is Mr. Murdstone. So if you were taking, like a class on this book or if you ever end up studying it in school or somewhere, that would be, I think, an excellent essay topic. Why does David have all these different names? And what do the names say about David? And also what do they say about the people who give him these names? But I think for our purposes now. Now, the fact that Steerforth gives David the nickname Daisy tells us both that David seems very young and innocent still, even though he's starting out on his adult life. But it also tells us that Steerforth is a much more jaded, more sardonic, more cynical sort of person, and that he has no problem calling David out on his youth and his innocence and kind of like rubbing it in his face by giving him this nickname, you know. When we met Steerforth initially back at Salem House, we talked about how he seemed sort of self centered, potentially a bit manipulative, but also kind in a way because he helped David to integrate into the group of boys. He told him what to spend his money on, but then he divided it equally. He made David tell him stories all night, but he also protected him from the other boys. So he seemed like a much older boy who liked having this younger boy looking up to him and kind of used him to do various things, but also looked out for him. So not an equal, but perhaps a kind of role model for David. But. But then we had that scene with Mr. Mel where Steerforth used what David had told him about Mr. Mel's mother to get Mr. Mel fired, all because Mr. Mel had tried to basically discipline Steerforth in the way that he would discipline any of the other boys. He asked him to be quiet and to be respectful. And Steerforth took issue with this because until that moment, he'd always been allowed to do whatever he wanted and to not ever be questioned, even by the teachers. And in fact, in chapter 20, the chapter that we just read last time, we learned that this is exactly, exactly why his mother had him go to Salem House in the first place. She says, this is a quote. My son's high spirit made it desirable that he should be placed with some man who felt its superiority and would be content to bow himself before it. And we found such a man there. Okay, so she's saying essentially that she didn't want anyone to discipline or reprimand him or cause him to do anything that he didn't want to do. So she had to find a school with a headmaster who was willing to let Steerforth and have the rule of the roost, essentially. And she found that man in Mr. Creakle. So basically, what she's saying is that Steerforth is very spoiled, that she always allowed him to have his way in everything, and she wanted that to continue once he went away to school. So Steerforth is a person who believes in his very soul that whatever he wants and whatever he thinks should happen should and will happen. Because no one has ever told him no. Or if someone does, they get fired on Steerforth, say So, just like Mr. Mel did. So this is a person who expects that everyone who meets him will revere him and that when he wants something done, it will happen. And I think that's why he likes David so much. And I do think he likes him, just not in the way that we maybe wish that David's friends would like him. He doesn't like him as an equal or as a friend, but he does like him. Because he likes that David looks up to him so much and holds him in such high esteem. It strokes his ego. I think he likes being idolized. He's used to being idolized. And he enjoys how open David is and his admiration of him and how completely unashamed he is to kind of bow down before what he perceives as Steerforth's superiority. But of course, we feel kind of repulsed by all of this. We know that David has a tendency to be taken advantage of. He has a tendency to be too trusting and to assume that everyone has good intentions. We see how completely he idolizes Steerforth. The way in which he feels like he can do no wrong. The way in which he sort of worships the ground that Steerforth walks on and is content to sort of pick up whatever crumbs of affection he tosses out and takes it as a compliment that he wants to give him this nickname. Of Daisy. We see all of this and we feel protective of David. I think we feel like, whoa, have a little more self respect. This guy's not any better than the next guy. He's not a God or anything. He's just a person. Plus, he's kind of condescending and infantilizing. And we don't want that for David either. We can't care about David. And to us, he is the main character, not Steerforth. So it really rankles to see him falling in with this guy and being so completely besotted with him as he is. It feels like, whatever, if you want to hang out with your old school friend for a while, that's fine, do that. But following him around like a little loyal puppy or something, that feels beneath David. And we don't like that. And there's another concern here, I think, and Joyce's letter is getting at this, but there's this other issue, which is that Steerforth seems to be kind of a bigot. Now, it's true that Ms. Dardle says a bunch of awful stuff about lower class people, and she may actually believe all of that, but really what's happening, I think, is that she's trying to draw out Steerforth's opinions about lower class people and to sort of state them as interesting tidbits of information that she's just learned. I mean, that's her whole shtick, right? She acts like she doesn't know anything and asks all these questions, but really she's trying to draw people out and get them to reveal things about themselves and the people around them. So David explains that he's off to Yarmouth to see the Pegganies and everyone there. And he's very much hoping that Steerforth might actually come with him. And Steerforth seems like he might want to do this. He says it would be worth a journey, not to mention the pleasure of a journey with you, Daisy, to see that sort of people together and to make one of them okay. And then Ms. Dardle picks up on this. She picks up on his use of the phrase that sort of people. And she acts like she doesn't really know what he means, which prompts him to elaborate. And he says, here's a quote. Why there's a pretty wide separation between them and us. They are not to be expected to be as sensitive as we are. Their delicacy is not to be shocked or hurt easily. They are wonderfully virtuous. I dare say some people contend for that at least. And I am sure I don't want to contradict them, but they have not very fine natures and they may be thankful that, like their coarse, rough skins, they are not easily wounded. And this is pretty horrible. I think it's elitist, it's closed minded and frankly, it's pretty ignorant, you know, remember, Steerforth is from a higher class than David, a higher social class. His mother is very rich and he's very rich, and he doesn't have any experience really mingling with lower class people. Whereas David, who also isn't lower class, and we've talked before about how he wouldn't realistically be able to marry little Emily, for example. So David is middle class, but he's also been poor. He's mingled with lower class people and he loves Peggy and he loves Mr. Peggy and everyone that's there. And while they are all aware of their class differences, right, Everyone would have been aware of any class differences back then. And everybody there calls David Master Davy and they give him his own room and all of this. So while all of that is true, David views his friends and he loves them and he enjoys their company without any kind of sense that he's better than them or he's holding himself apart from them because of his higher social status. But Steerforth is acting like lower class people are a totally different kind of person, or even like an animal or something like that. And he's talking about it completely nonchalantly, as if lower class people aren't even real. They're just a kind of idea to like discuss over dinner. And it is then that Ms. Dardle says what she says, but she's saying it as a way to sort of parrot back what Steerforth was saying and also potentially to share her own views on the subject without having to say anything definitive. She never seems to really want to say anything definitive if she can help it. So she says, here's a quote. Are they really animals and clods and beings of another order? I want to know so much, okay? And then later she says it's such a delight to know that when they suffer, they don't feel. Sometimes I have been quite uneasy for that sort of people, but now I shall just dismiss the idea of them altogether. So to my mind, what's happening here is that she's kind of calling Steerforth out without seeming to call him out. She's acting like he's just taught her something of great importance about lower class people. But really she's just sort of taking Steerforth's comments to their natural conclusion and showing what would be true about lower Class people. If someone. Steerforth's view of them were accurate. Which is not to say that she doesn't also think this stuff about lower class people. It's just that I think she's more in the business of kind of twisting people's words and using them for her own purposes than she is in caring about what the actual topic is that they're discussing. So all of that is really concerning because obviously someone who thinks that Peggy and Mr. Peggotty and little Emily and everyone are essentially animals is not someone that we want David associating with in any way, shape or form. We love Peggotty, and we don't like anybody that doesn't like her or Mr. Peggotty or whoever. And I think David would agree generally with that. But he assumes. Because how could it be otherwise? He assumes that Steerforth was joking when he said all of that. He says, here's a quote. I believed that Steerforth had said what he had in jest or to draw Ms. Dardle out. And I expected him to say as much when she was gone and we two were sitting before the fire and. But he merely asked me what I thought of her. Okay, so David assumes that Steerforth is good and correct in all things. So of course he must be joking when he says those things about lower class people. And even though Steerforth doesn't say that he was joking, even when he is alone with David, David still assumes that he was. Because to assume that he was in earnest would be to think something negative about Steerforth, and David just isn't able to do that. But I will point out that Steerforth has actually already met Mr. Peggotty and Hamilton. Right. He met them at Salem House when they came to visit David. And when he met them, he was actually very kind to them. Remember, he chatted with them and he said nice things about David, and he was interested in their jobs and the food they'd brought and everything. And Mr. Peggy and Ham went away feeling that Steerforth was a great guy and a good friend for David. So it's possible that Steerforth was joking or that he was saying something he believes offhand, but he doesn't actually believe when he encounters real people or he's telling the truth. We kind of don't know at this point. And I think it's also worth noting that there are contradictions with Steerforth. He can be condescending and manipulative, but he can also take care of you and help you to become part of the group. He can give you the nickname of Daisy, and then help you to get a better room at the inn. He can call you young and innocent and laugh at you and then take you home to meet his mother and feed you and give you a place to sleep and suggest that you stay with him for a long time. Time. There is something really appealing about him. There's a charm to him, even as there's something really unappealing as well. He's not completely one thing or the other, but I think that Ms. Dardle really sums things up nicely when she says he thinks you young and innocent and so you are his friend. I mean, this is kind of Ms. Dardle's superpower. She cuts to the heart of everything while seeming like she doesn't understand anything or needs everything except explained to her. But I think she's right. David looks up to Steerforth, Steerforth likes being looked up to. So they get along really well. The question then becomes, is that okay? Will that work out for them? Or is David headed for some kind of rude awakening here if he falls in with Steerforth and he takes him down to Yarmouth? Well, we don't know that yet. Right? We have to find out. And there's only one way to find out, and that is to keep reading. So we're going to do that now. But of course, as always, we're going. Please don't forget to Write in. It's faithkmoore.com and click on Contact. Or you can scroll into the show notes and click the link that's there to contact me. I love getting your questions and your thoughts. I love hearing from you. So please do get in touch with all your thoughts about this chapter. All right, let's get started with Chapter 21 of David Copperfield by Charles Dickens. It's story time. Chapter 21. Little Emily. There was a servant in that house, a man who I understood was usually with Steerforth and had come into his service at the university, who was in appearance a pattern of respectability. I believe there never existed in his station a more respectable looking man. He was taciturn, soft footed, very quiet in his manner, deferential, observant, always at hand when wanted and never near when not wanted. But his great claim to consideration was his respectability. He had not a pliant face. He had rather a stiff neck, rather a tight, smooth head with short hair clinging to it at the sides. A soft way of speaking, with a peculiar habit of whispering the letter S so distinctly that he seemed to use it oftener than any other man. But every peculiarity that he had he made respectable. If his nose had been upside down, he would have made that respectable. He surrounded himself with an atmosphere of respectability and walked secure in it. It would have been next to impossible to suspect him of anything wrong. He was so thoroughly respectable nobody could have thought of putting him in a livery, he was so highly respectable. A livery is the uniform that servants wore to indicate which house they belonged to and what job they had. To have imposed any derogatory work upon him would have been to inflict a wanton insult on the feelings of a most respectable man. And of this I noticed the women servants in the household were so intuitively conscious that they always did such work themselves. And generally while he read the paper by the pantry fire. Such a self contained man I never saw. But in that quality, as in every other he possessed, he only seemed to be the more respectable. Even the fact that no one knew his Christian name seemed to form a part of his respectability. His Christian name means his first name. Nothing could be objected against his surname, Littimer, by which he was known. Peter might have been hanged or Tom transported, but Littimer was perfectly respectable. It was occasioned, I suppose, by the reverend nature of respectability in the abstract. But I felt particularly young in this man's presence. How old he was himself I could not guess, and that again went to his credit on the same score. For in the calmness of respectability he might have numbered 50 years as well as 30. Littimer was in my room in the morning before I was up, to bring me that reproachful shaving water and to put out my clothes. When I undrew the curtains and looked out of bed, I saw him in an equable temperature of respectability, unaffected by the east wind of January, and not even breathing frostily standing my boots right and left in the first dancing position and blowing specks of dust off my coat as he laid it down like a baby. I gave him good morning and asked him what o' clock it was. He took out of his pocket the most respectable hunting watch I ever saw, and preventing the spring with his thumb from opening far, looked in at the face as if he were consulting an oracular oyster, shut it up again and said if I pleased, it was half past eight. Mr. Steerforth will be glad to hear how you have rested, sir. Thank you, said I. Very well indeed. Is Mr. Steerforth quite well? Thank you, sir. Mr. Steerforth is tolerably well. Another of his characteristics. No use of superlatives. A cool, calm medium always. Is there anything more I can have the honour of doing for you, sir. The warning bell will ring at nine. The family take breakfast at half past nine. Nothing, I thank you. I thank you, sir. If you please. And with that, and with a little inclination of his head when he passed the bedside, as an apology for correcting me, he went out, shutting the door as delicately as if I had just fallen into a sweet sleep on which my life depended. Every morning we held exactly this conversation. Never any more and never any less. And yet, invariably, however far I might have been lifted out of myself overnight and advanced towards maturer years by Steerforth's companionship or Mrs. Steerforth's confidence or Miss Dardle's conversation. In the presence of this most respectable man, I became, as our smaller poets sing, a boy again. He got horses for us, and Steerforth, who knew everything, gave me lessons in riding. He provided foils for us, and Steerforth gave me lessons in fencing and gloves. And I began, of the same master, to improve in boxing. It gave me no manner of concern that Steerforth should find me a novice in these sciences. But I never could bear to show my want of skill before the respectable Littimer. I had no reason to believe that Littimer understood such arts himself. He never led me to suppose anything of the kind by so much as the vibration of one of his respectable eyelashes. Yet whenever he was by, while we were practicing, I felt myself the greenest and most inexperienced of mortals. I am particular about this man because he made a particular effect on me at that time and because of what took place thereafter. The week passed away in a most delightful manner. It passed rapidly as may be supposed to one, entranced as I was, and yet it gave me so many occasions for knowing Steerforth better and admiring him more in a thousand respects that at its close I seem to have been with him for a much longer time. A dashing way he had of treating me like a plaything was more agreeable to me than any behavior he could have adopted. It reminded me of our old acquaintance. It seemed the natural sequel of it. It showed me that he was unchanged. It relieved me of any uneasiness I might have felt in comparing my merits with his and measuring my claims upon his friendship by any equal standard. Above all, it was a familiar, unrestrained, affectionate demeanor that he used towards no one else. As he had treated me at school differently from all the rest. I joyfully believed that he treated me in life unlike any other friend he had. I believed that I was nearer to his heart than any other friend and my Own heart warmed with attachment to him, he made up his mind to go with me into the country, and the day arrived for our departure. He had been doubtful at first whether to take Littimer or not, but decided to leave him at home. The respectable creature, satisfied with his lot whatever it was, arranged our portmanteau on the little carriage that was to take us into London as if they were intended to defy the shocks of ages, and received my modestly proffered donation with perfect tranquillity. We bade adieu to Mrs. Steerforth and Ms. Dardle with many thanks on my part and much kindness on the devoted mothers. The last thing I saw was Littimer's unruffled eye, fraught as I fancied with the silent conviction that I was very young indeed. What I felt in returning so auspiciously to the old familiar places I shall not endeavour to describe. We went down by the mail. I was so concerned, I recollect, even for the honour of Yarmouth, that when Steerforth said, as we drove through its dark streets to the inn, that as well as he could make out it was a good queer, out of the way kind of hole, I was highly pleased. We went to bed. On our arrival I observed a pair of dirty shoes and gaiters in connection with my old friend the Dolphin as we passed that door and breakfasted late in the morning. Steerforth, who was in great spirits, had been strolling about the beach before I was up, and had made acquaintance, he said, with half the boatmen in the place. Moreover, he had seen in the distance what he was sure must be the identical house of Mr. Peggotty with smoke coming out of the chimney, and had had a great mind. He told me to walk in and swear he was myself grown out of knowledge, meaning he was thinking he would go into the house and pretend that he was David all grown up. When do you propose to introduce me there, Daisy, he said. I am at your disposal. Make your own arrangements. Why, I was thinking that this evening would be a good time, Steerforth, when they are all sitting round the fire. I should like you to see it when it's snug. It's such a curious place. So be it, returned Steerforth. This evening I shall not give them any notice that we are here, you know, said I, delighted. We must take them by surprise. Oh, of course, it's no fun, said Steerforth, unless we take them by surprise. Let us see the natives in their aboriginal condition, though they are that sort of people that you mentioned. I returned. Aha. What you Recollect my skirmishes with Rosa, do you? He exclaimed with a quick look. Confound the girl. I am half afraid of her. She's like a goblin to me. But never mind her. Now what are you going to do? You are going to see your nurse, I suppose. Why, yes, I said. I must see Peggotty first of all. Well, replied Steerforth, looking at his watch, suppose I deliver you up to be cried over for a couple of hours. Is that long enough? I answered, laughing, that I thought we might get through it in that time, but that he must come also, for he would find that his renown had preceded him and that he was almost as great a personage as I was. I'll come anywhere you like, said Steerforth, or do anything you like. Tell me where to come to and in two hours I'll produce myself in any state you please, sentimental or comical. I gave him minute directions for finding the residence of Mr. Barkis, carrier to Blunderstone and elsewhere, and on this understanding went out alone. There was a sharp, bracing air. The ground was dry, the sea was crisp and clear, the sun was diffusing abundance of light, if not much warmth, and everything was fresh and lively. I was so fresh and lively myself in the pleasure of being there that I could have stopped the people in the streets and shaken hands with them. The streets looked small, of course, the streets that we have only seen as children always do, I believe, when we go back to them. But I had forgotten nothing in them and found nothing changed until I came to Mr. Omer's shop. Omer and Joram was now written up where Omer used to be, but the inscription Draper, Tailor, haberdasher, funeral furniture, etc. Remained as it was. So remember this is the place where they fit David for his funeral clothes after his mother died. My footsteps seemed to tend so naturally to the shop door after I had read these words from over the way, that I went across the road and looked in. There was a pretty woman at the back of the shop, dancing, a little child in her arms, while another little fellow clung to her apron. I had no difficulty in recognizing either Minnie or Minnie's children. The glass door of the parlour was not open, but in the workshop across the yard I could faintly hear the old tune playing as if it had never let off, meaning the hammering of a coffin. Is Mr. Omer at home? Said I, entering. I should like to see him for a moment, if he is. Oh, yes, sir, he is at home, said Minnie. The weather don't suit his asthma out of doors. Joe, call your grandfather. The little fellow who was holding her apron gave such a lusty shout that the sound of it made him bashful, and he buried his face in her skirts to her great admiration. I heard a heavy puffing and blowing coming towards us, and soon Mr. Omer, shorter winded than of yore, but not much older looking, stood before me. Servant, sir, said Mr. Omer. What can I do for you, sir? You can shake hands with me, Mr. Omer, if you please, said I, putting out my own. You were very good natured to me once, when I am afraid I didn't show that I thought so was I, though, returned the old man. I'm glad to hear it, but I don't remember when. Are you sure it was me? Quite. I think my memory has got as short as my breath, said Mr. Omer, looking at me and shaking his head, for I don't remember you. Don't you remember your coming to the coach to meet me and my having breakfast here and our riding out to Blunderstone together? You And I and Mrs. Joram and Mr. Joram too, who wasn't her husband then? Why, Lord bless my soul. Exclaimed Mr. Omer, after being thrown by his surprise into a fit of coughing. You don't say so, Minnie, my dear. You recollect. Dear me, yes. The party was a lady, I think. My mother, I rejoined. To be sure, said Mr. Omer, touching my waistcoat with his forefinger. And there was a little child, too. There was two parties. The little party was laid along with the other party over at Blunderstone. It was, of course. Dear me. And how have you been since? Very well. I thanked him as I hoped he had been, too. Oh, nothing to grumble at, you know, said Mr. Omer. I find my breath gets short, but it seldom gets longer as a man gets older. I take it as it comes and make the most of it. That's the best way, ain't it? Mr. Omer coughed again in consequence of laughing, and was assisted out of his fit by his daughter, who now stood close beside us, dancing her smallest child on the counter. Dear me, said Mr. Omer. Yes, to be sure. Two parties. Why, in that very ride, if you'll believe me. The day was named for my Minnie to marry Joram. Do name it, sir, says Joram. Yes, do, father, says Minnie. And now he's come into the business. And look here. The youngest Minnie laughed and stroked her banded hair upon her temples as her father put one of his fat fingers into the hand of the child. She was dancing on the counter. Two parties, of course, said Mr. Omer, nodding his head retrospectively. Exactly so. And Joram's at work at this minute on a gray one with silver nails. Not this measurement. The measurement of the dancing child upon the counter by a good 2 inches. Will you take something? I thanked him but declined. Let me see, said Mr. Omer. Barkis is the carrier's wife. Peggotty's the boatman's sister. She had something to do with your family. She was in service there. Sure. My answering in the affirmative gave him great satisfaction. I believe my breath will get long next. My memory's gettin so much. So, said Mr. Omer. Well, sir, we've got a young relation of hers here under articles to us, that has as elegant a taste in the dressmaking business. I assure you. I don't believe there's a duchess in England can touch her. Not little Em', Ly, said I involuntarily. Em' Ly is her name, said Mr. Omer, and she's little too. But if you'll believe me, she has such a face of her own that half the women in this town are mad against her. Nonsense, Father. Cried Minnie. My dear, said Mr. Omer. I don't say it's the case with you winking at me, but I say that half the women in Yarmouth ah, and in Five Mile Round are mad against that girl. Meaning the girls are jealous of little Em' Ly because she's so pretty. Then she should have kept to her own station in life, Father, said Minnie, and not have given them any hold to talk about her, and then they couldn't have done it. Couldn't have done it, my dear, retorted Mr. Omer. Couldn't have done it. Is that your knowledge of life? What is there that any woman couldn't do that she shouldn't do, especially on the subject of another woman's good looks. I really thought it was all over with Mr. Omer after he had uttered this libellous pleasantry. He coughed to that extent, and his breath eluded all his attempts to recover it, with that obstinacy that I fully expected to see his head go down under the counter, and his little black breeches with the rusty little bunches of ribbons at the knees come quivering up in a last ineffectual struggle. At length, however, he got better, though he still panted hard, and was so exhausted that he was obliged to sit on the stool of the shop desk. You see, he said, wiping his head and breathing with difficulty, she hasn't taken much to any Companions here She hasn't taken kindly to any particular acquaintances and friends, not to mention sweethearts. In consequence an ill natured story got about that Emily wanted to be a lady. Now my opinion is that it came into circulation principally on account of her sometimes saying at the school that if she was a lady she would like to do so and so for her uncle, don't you see, and buy him such and such fine things. I assure you, Mr. Omer, she has said so to me. I returned eagerly when we were both children. Mr. Omer nodded his head and rubbed his chin. Just so. Then out of a very little she could dress herself, you see, better than most others could out of a deal, and that made things unpleasant. Moreover, she was rather what might be called wayward. I'll go so far as to say what I should call wayward myself, said Mr. Omer. Didn't know her own mind, quite a little spoilt and couldn't at first exactly bind herself down. No more than that was ever said against her. Minnie? No, father, said Mrs. Joram. That's the worst, I believe so when she got a situation, said Mr. Omer, to keep a fractious old lady company, they didn't very well agree and she didn't stop. At last she came here apprenticed for three years. Nearly 2 of em are over and she has been as good a girl as ever was worth any six. Minnie. Is she worth any six now? Yes, Father, replied Minnie. Never say. I detracted from her. Very good, said Mr. Omer. That's right. And so, young gentlemen, he added after a few moments further rubbing of his chin, that you may not consider me long winded as well as short breathed. I believe that's all about it. As they had spoken in a subdued tone while speaking of Emily, I had no doubt that she was near on my asking. Now, if that were not so. Mr. Omer nodded yes, and nodded towards the door of the parlour. My hurried inquiry, if I might peep in was answered with a free permission. And looking through the glass I saw her sitting at her work. I saw her, a most beautiful little creature with the cloudless blue eyes that had looked into my childish heart, turned laughingly upon another child of Minnie's, who was playing near her with enough of wilfulness in her bright face to justify what I had heard with much of the old capricious coyness lurking in it, but with nothing in her pretty looks, I am sure, but what was meant for goodness and for happiness, and what was on a good and happy course. The tune across the yard that seemed as if it never had let offalas. It was the tune that never does leave off was beating softly all the while. Won't you like to step in, said Mr. Omer, and speak to her? Walk in and speak to her, sir. Make yourself at home. I was too bashful to do so then. I was afraid of confusing her, and I was no less afraid of confusing myself. But I informed myself of the hour at which she left of an evening in order that our visit might be timed accordingly and taking leave of Mr. Omer and his pretty daughter and her little children, went away to my dear old Peggotty's. Here she was in the tiled kitchen cooking dinner. The moment I knocked at the door, she opened it and asked me what I pleased to want. I looked at her with a smile, but she gave me no smile in return. I had never ceased to write to her, but it must have been seven years since we had met. Is Mr. Barkis at home, ma'? Am? I said, feigning to speak roughly to her. He's at Ome, sir, returned Peggotty. But he's bad a bed with the rheumatics. Don't he go over to Plunderstone now? I asked. When he's well, he do, she answered. Do you ever go there, Mrs. Barkis? She looked at me more attentively and I noticed a quick movement of her hands towards each other. Because I want to ask a question about a house there that they call the. What is it? The Rookery, said I. She took a step backward and put out her hands in an undecided, frightened way as if to keep me off. Peggotty, I cried to her. She cried, my darling boy. And we both burst into tears and were locked in one another's arms. What extravagances she committed, what laughing and crying over me, what pride she showed, what joy, what sorrow, that she, whose pride and joy I might have been could never hold me in a fond embrace. I have not the heart to tell. I was troubled, with no misgiving, that it was young in me to respond to her emotions. I had never laughed and cried in all my life. I dare say not even to her, more freely than I did that morning. Barkis will be so glad, said Peggotty, wiping her eyes with her apron, that it'll do him more good than pints of liniment. May I go and tell him you are here? Will you come up and see him, my dear? Of course I would. But Peggotty could not get out of the room as Easily as she meant to. For as often as she got to the door and looked round at me she came back again to have another laugh and another cry upon my shoulder. At last, to make the matter easier, I went upstairs with her and having waited outside for a minute while she said a word of preparation to Mr. Barkis presented myself before that invalid. He received me with absolute enthusiasm. He was too rheumatic to be shaken hands with, but he begged me to shake the tassel on the top of his nightcap which I did most cordially. When I sat down by the side of the bed, he said that it did him a world of good to feel as if he was driving me on the blunderstone road again. As he lay in bed, face upward and so covered with that exception that he seemed to be nothing but a face like a conventional cherubim, he looked the queerest object I ever beheld. What name was it? As I rode up in the cart, sir, said Mr. Barkis with a slow, rheumatic smile. Ah, Mr. Barkis, we had some grave talks about that matter, hadn't we? I was willing. A long time, sir, said Mr. Barkis. A long time, said I, and I don't regret it, said Mr. Barkis. Do you remember what you told me once about her making all the apple parsties and doing all the cooking? Yes. Very well, I returned. It was as true, said Mr. Barkis, as turnips is. It was as true, said Mr. Barkis, nodding his nightcap, which was his only means of emphasis, as taxes is, and nothing's truer than them. Mr. Barkis turned his eyes upon me as if for my assent to this result of his reflections in bed, and I gave it. Nothing's truer than them, repeated Mr. Barkis. A man as poor as I am finds that out in his mind when he's laid up. I'm a very poor man, sir. I am sorry to hear it, Mr. Barkis. A very poor man. Indeed I am, said Mr. Barkis. Here. His right hand came slowly and feebly from under the bedclothes and with a purposeless, uncertain grasp took hold of a stick which was loosely tied to the side of the bed. After some poking about with this instrument, in the course of which his face assumed a variety of distracted expressions, Mr. Barkis poked it against a box, an end of which had been visible to me all the time. Then his face became composed. Old clothes, said Mr. Barkis. Oh, said I, I wish it was money, sir, said Mr. Barkis. I wish it was indeed, said I, but it ain't, said Mr. Barkis, opening both his eyes as wide as he possibly could. Okay, so we know that it's money because Peggy told David a long time ago that Mr. Barkis keeps his money in a box under his bed. I expressed myself quite sure of that. And Mr. Barkis, turning his eyes more gently to his wife, said, she's the usefulest and best of women, C.P. barkis. All the praise that anyone can give to C.P. barkiss she deserves and more. My dear, you'll get a dinner today for company, something good to eat and drink, will you? I should have protested against this unnecessary demonstration in my honor but that I saw Peggotty on the opposite side of the bed, extremely angry, anxious that I should not. So I held my peace. I've got a trifle of money somewhere about me, my dear, said Mr. Barkis, but I'm a little tired. If you and Mr. David will leave me for a short nap, I'll try and find it when I wake. We left the room in compliance with this request. When we got outside the door, Peggotty informed me that Mr. Barkis, being now a little nearer than he used to be always resorted to this same device before producing a single coin from his store and that he endured unheard of agonies in crawling out of bed alone and taking it from that unlucky box. In effect, we presently heard him uttering suppressed groans of the most dismal nature as this magpie proceeding racked him in every joint. But while Peggotty's eyes were full of compassion for him she said his generous impulse would do him good and it was better not to check it. So he groaned on until he had got into bed again, suffering, I have no doubt, a martyrdom, him and then called us in, pretending to have just woken up from a refreshing sleep and to produce a guinea from under his pillow, his satisfaction in which happy imposition on us and in having preserved the impenetrable secret of the box appeared to be a sufficient compensation to him for all his tortures. I prepared Peggotty for Steerforth's arrival and it was not long before he came. I am persuaded she knew no difference between his having been a personal benefactor of hers and a kind friend to me and that she would have received him with the utmost gratitude and devotion in any case. But his easy spirited good humour, his genial manner, his handsome looks, his natural gift of adapting himself to whomsoever he pleased and making direct when he cared to do it to the main point of interest in anybody's Heart bound her to him wholly in five minutes. His manner to me alone would have won her. But through all these causes combined, I sincerely believe she had a kind of adoration for him. Before he left the house that night, he stayed there with me to dinner. If I were to say willingly, I should not half express how readily and gaily he went into Mr. Barkis's room like light and air brightening and refreshing it as if he were healthy weather. There was no noise, no effort, no consciousness in anything he did, but in everything an indescribable lightness, a seeming impossibility of doing anything else or doing anything better, which was so graceful, graceful, so natural and agreeable that it overcomes me even now in the remembrance we made merry in the little parlor where the book of Martyrs, unthumbed since my time, was laid out upon the desk as of old, and where I now turned over its terrific pictures, remembering the old sensations they had awakened but not feeling them. When Peggotty spoke of what she called my room and of its being ready for me at night, and of her hoping I would occupy it before I could so much as look at Steerforth hesitating, he was possessed of the whole case. Of course, he said, you'll sleep here while we stay, and I shall sleep at the hotel. But to bring you so far I returned, and to separate seems bad. Companionship, Steerforth. Why, in the name of heaven, where do you naturally belong? He said. What is seems compared to that? It was settled at once. He maintained all his delightful qualities to the last until we started forth at 8 o' clock for Mr. Peggotty's boat. Indeed they were more and more brightly exhibited as the hours went on. For I thought even then, and I have no doubt now, that the consciousness of success in his determination to please inspired him with a new delicacy of perception and made it subtle, as it was more easy to him. If any one had told me then that all this was a brilliant game played for the excitement of the moment, for the employment of high spirits in the thoughtless love of superiority, in a mere wasteful, careless course of winning that was worthless to him and next minute thrown away, I say, if any one had told me such a lie that night, I wonder in what manner of receiving it my indignation would have found a vent, probably only in an increase, had that been possible, of the romantic feelings of fidelity and friendship with which I walked beside him over the dark, wintry sands towards the old boat, the wind sighing around us even more mournfully than it had sighed and moaned upon the night when I first darkened Mr. Peggotty's door. This is a wild kind of place, Steerforth. Is it not dismal enough in the dark, he said, and the sea roars as if it were hungry for us. Is that the boat? Where I see a light yonder? That's the boat, said I, and it's the same I saw this morning he returned. I came straight to it by instinct, I suppose. We said no more as we approached the light, but made softly for the door. I laid my hand upon the latch and, whispering Steerforth to come close to me, went in. A murmur of voices had been audible on the outside and at the moment of our entrance a clapping of hands, which latter noise I was surprised to see proceeded from the generally disconsolate Mrs. Gummitch. But Mrs. Gummidge was not the only person there who was unusually excited. Mr. Peggotty, his face lighted up with uncommon satisfaction and laughing with all his might, held his rough arms wide open as if for little Emily to run into them. Ham, with a mixed expression in his face of admiration, exultation, and a lumbering sort of bashfulness that sat upon him very well, held little Em' Ly by the hand as if he were presenting her to Mr. Peggotty. Little Em', Ly herself, blushing and shy, but delighted with Mr. Peggotty's delight as her joyous eyes expressed, was stopped by our entrance, for she saw us first in the very act of springing from Ham to nestle in Mr. Peggotty's embrace, in the first glimpse we had of them all and at the moment of our passing from the dark, cold night into the warm, light room. This was the way in which they were all employed. Mrs. Gummidge in the background, clapping her hands like a mad woman. The little picture was so instantaneously dissolved by our going in that one might have doubted whether it had ever been. I was in the midst of the astonished family, face to face with Mr. Peggotty and holding out my hand to him, when Ham shouted, master Davy. It's Master Davy. In a moment we were all shaking hands with one another and asking one another how we did and telling one another how glad we were to meet, and all talking at once. Mr. Peggotty was so proud and overjoyed to see us that he did not know what to say or do, but kept over and over again shaking hands with me, and then with Steerforth, and then with me, and then ruffling his shaggy hair all over his head and laughing with such glee and triumph that it was a treat to see him. Why, that you two gentlemen gentlemen growed should come to this ere roof to night of all nights. O my life, said Mr. Peggotty, is such a thing as never happened afore? I do rightly believe Em', ly, my darlin', come here. Come here, my little witch. There's Master Davy's friend. My dear, there's the gentleman. As you've heard, Aunt Emily, he comes to see you along with Master Davy on the brightest night of your uncle's life, as ever was or will be gorm the other one in or afore it. After delivering this speech all in a breath and with extraordinary animation and pleasure, Mr. Peggotty put one of his large hands rapturously on each side of his niece's face, and kissing it a dozen times, laid it with a gentle pride and love upon his broad chest, and patted it as if his hand had been a lady's. Then he let her go, and as she ran into the little chamber where I used to sleep, looked round upon us quite hot and out of breath, with his uncommon satisfaction. If you two gentlemen Gentlemen grow old now, and such gentlemen. Said Mr. Peggotty, so they are, so they are. Cried Ham. Well said, so they are, Master Day of a boy. Gentlemen growed, so they are. If you two gentlemen gentlemen growed, said Mr. Peggotty, don't excuse me for being in a state of mind when you understand matters. I'll ask your pardon, Emily, my dear, she knows I'm a gonna tell Here. His delight broke out again and has made off. Would you be so good as look after her mawther for a minute? Mrs. Gummidge nodded and disappeared. If this ain't, said Mr. Peggotty, sitting down among us by the fire, the brightest night of my life. I'm a shell fish biled too, meaning boiled too, and more. I can't say this ere little Em', ly, sir, In a low voice to Steerforth, her, as ye see, blushing ere just now, Steerforth only nodded, but with such a pleased expression of interest and of participation in Mr. Peggotty's feelings that the latter answered him as if he had spoken. To be sure, said Mr. Peggotty. That's sir, and so she is. Thank', ee, sir. Ham nodded to me several times as if he would have said so too. This ere little Em' ly of ours, said Mr. Peggotty, has been in our house. What? I suppose I'm a ignorant man, but that's My belief no one but a little bright eyed creature can be in a house. She ain't my child, I never ad one. But I couldn't love her more. You understand? I couldn't do it. I quite understand, said Steerforth. I know you do, sir, returned Mr. Peggotty. And thank ye again, Master Davy. He can remember what she was. You may judge for your own self what she is, but neither of you can't fully know what she has been, is, and will be to my lovin art. I'm rough, sir, said Mr. Peggotty, I'm as rough as a sea porcupine. But no one, unless mayhap it is a woman, can know, I think, what our little Em' ly is to me, and betwixt ourselves sinking his voice lower yet that woman's name ain't Mrs. Gummidge neither, though she has a world o merits. Mr. Peggotty ruffled his hair again with both hands as a further preparation for what he was going to say, and went on with a hand upon each of his knees. There was a certain person as had known our Em' ly from the time when her father was drownded, as had seen her constant when a babby, when a young gal, when a woman not much of a person to look at. He warn't, said Mr. Peggotty, something o my own build rough a good deal o the sou' wester in him where is salt? But on the whole a honest sort o chap with his heart in the right place. I thought I had never seen Ham grin to anything like the extent to which he sat grinning at us. Now what does this ere blessed tarpaulin go and do? Said Mr. Peggotty with his face one high noon of enjoyment. But he loses that there art of his to our little Em'. Ly. He follows her about, he makes hisself a sort o servant to her. He loses in a great measure his relish for his wittles, meaning he stops eating, and in the long run he makes it clear to me what's amiss. Now I could wish myself you see, that our little Em' ly was in a fair way of being married. I could wish to see her at all awents under articles to a honest man as had a right to defend her. I don't know how long I may live, or how soon I may die, but I know that if I was capsized any night in a gale o wind in Yarmouth Roads here and was to see the town lights shining for the last time over the rollers as I couldn't make no head against, I could go down quieter for thinking there's a man ashore there iron true to my little Em', ly, God bless her, and no wrong can touch my Em' ly while so be as that man lives. Mr. Peggotty, in simple earnestness, waved his right arm as if he were waving it at the town lights for the last time, and then exchanging a nod with Ham, whose eye he caught, proceeded as before. Well, I counsels him to speak, Tam'. Ly. He's big enough, but he's bashfuller than a little one and he don't like so I speak what him says, Em'. Ly him that I've knowed so intimate so many years and like so much, oh, uncle, I never can have him, he's such a good fellow. I gives her a kiss and I says no more to her. Then, my dear, you're right to speak out. You're to choose for yourself. You're as free as a little bird. Then I ways to him and I says, I wish it could have been so, but it can't. But you can both be as you was. And what I say to you is, be as you was with her, like a man, he says to me, a shaking of my hand I will, he says. And he was honourable and manful for two year going on. He was just the same at home here as afore. Mr. Peggotty's face, which had varied in its expression with the various stages of his narrative, now resumed all its former triumphant delight, as he laid a hand upon my knee and a hand upon Steerforth's previously wedding, them both for the greater emphasis of the action, and divided the following speech between us. All of a sudden one evening, as it might be to night comes l em' ly flum work and him with her. There ain't so much in that you'll say no, because he takes care on her like a brother arter dark and indeed afore dark, and at all times but this tarpaulin chap, he takes hold of her hand and he cries out to me, joyful, look here, this is to be my little wife. And she says, half bold and half shy and half laughing and half crying, yes, uncle, if you please. If I please, cried Mr. Peggotty, rolling his head in an ecstasy at the idea. Lord, as if I should do anything else. If you please, I'm steadier now, and I have thought better of it, and I'll be as good a little wife as I can to him. For he's a dear fellow. Then Mrs. Gummidge, she claps her hands like a play and you come in there, the murder's out, said Mr. Peggotty. You come in. It took place this here present hour and here's the man that'll marry her the minute she's out of her time. Ham staggered as well he might under the blow Mr. Peggotty dealt him in his unbounded joy as a mark of confidence and friendship. But feeling called upon to say something to us, he said with much faltering and great difficulty, she wern't no higher than you was, Master Davy, when you first come. When I thought what she'd grow up to be. I see her grown up, gentlemen, like a flower. I'd laid down my life for her, Master Davy. O most content and cheerful. She's more to me, gentlemen, then she's all to me that ever I can want and more than ever I. Than ever I could say, I. I love her. True, there ain't a gentleman in all the land nor yet sailing upon all the sea that can love his lady more than I love her Though there's many a common man would say better what he meant. I thought it affecting to see such a sturdy fellow as Ham was now trembling in the strength of what he felt for the pretty little creature who had won his heart. I thought the simple confidence reposed in us by Mr. Peggotty and by himself was in itself affecting. I was affected by the story altogether. How far my emotions were influenced by the recollections of my childhood. I don't know whether I had come there with any lingering fancy that I was still to love little Emily, I don't know. I know that I was filled with pleasure by all this but at first with an indescribably sensitive pleasure that a very little would have changed to pain. Therefore, if it had been depended upon me to touch the prevailing chord among them with any skill I should have made a poor hand of it. But it depended upon Steerforth, and he did it with such address that in a few minutes we were all as easy and as happy as it was possible to be. Mr. Peggotty, he said, you are a thoroughly good fellow and deserve to be as happy as you are to night my hand upon it. Ham. I give you joy, my boy. My hand upon that, too. Daisy, stir the fire and make it a brisk one. Mr. Peggotty, unless you can induce your gentle knees to come back for whom I vacate this seat in the corner, I shall go any gap at your fireside on such a night, such a gap. Least of all I wouldn't make for the wealth of the Indies. So he's saying if the reason that Emily won't come out and be with him is because Steerforth is there and he's a stranger, he'll leave. So Mr. Peggotty went into my old room to fetch little Emily. At first little Emily didn't like to come, and then Ham went. Presently they brought her to the fireside, very much confused and very shy. But she soon became more assured when she found how gently and respectfully Steerforth spoke to her, how skilfully he avoided anything that would embarrass her. How he talked to Mr. Peggotty of Boats and ships and tides and fish. How he referred to me about the time when he had seen Mr. Peggotty at Salem House, how delighted he was with the boat and all belonging to it. How lightly and easily he carried on until he brought us by degrees into a charmed circle and we were all talking away without any reserve. Emily indeed said little all the evening, but she looked and listened, and her face got animated and she was charming. Steerforth told a story of a dismal shipwreck which arose out of his talk with Mr. Peggotty as if he saw it all before him. And little Emily's eyes were fastened on him all the time as if she saw it too. He told us a merry adventure of his own as a relief to that with as much gaiety as if the narrative were as fresh to him as it was to us. And little Em' ly laughed until the boat rang with the musical sounds, and we all laughed. Steerforth too, in irresistible sympathy with what was so pleasant and light hearted, he got Mr. Peggotty to sing, or rather to roar when the stormy winds do blow, do blow, do blow. And he sang a sailor's song himself so pathetically and beautifully that I could have almost fancied that the real wind, creeping sorrowfully round the house and murmuring low through our unbroken silence, was there to listen. As to Mrs. Gummidge he roused that victim of despondency with a success never attained by any one else. So Mr. Peggotty informed me, since the decease of the old one, he left her so little leisure for being miserable that she said next day she thought she must have been bewitched. But he set up no monopoly of general attention or the conversation. When little Emily grew more courageous and talked, but still bashfully across the fire to me of our old Wanderings upon the beach and to pick up shells and pebbles. And when I asked her if she recollected how I used to be devoted to her, and when we both laughed and reddened, casting those looks back on the pleasant old times, so unreal to look at now, he was silent and attentive and observed us thoughtfully. She sat at this time and all the evening on the old locker in her old little corner by the fire, Ham beside her where I used to sit. I could not satisfy myself whether it was in her own little tormenting way or in a maidenly reserve before for us that she kept quite close to the wall and away from him. But I observed that she did so all the evening. As I remember, it was almost midnight when we took our leave. We had had some biscuit and dried fish for supper, and Steerforth had produced from his pocket a full flask of Hollands, which we men, I say we men now without a blush had emptied, we parted merrily, and as they all stood crowded round the door to light us as far as they could upon the road, and I saw the sweet blue eyes of little Emily peeping after us from behind Ham, and heard her soft voice calling to us to be careful how we went. A most engaging little beauty, said Steerforth, taking my arm. Well, it's a quaint place, and they are quaint company, and it's quite a new sensation to mix with them. How fortunate we are too. I returned to have arrived to witness their happiness in that intended marriage. I never saw people so happy. How delightful to see it and to be made the shares in their honest joy as we have been. That's rather a chuckle headed fellow for the girl, isn't he? Said Steerforth. He had been so hearty with him and with them all that I felt a shock in this unexpected and cold reply. But turning quickly upon him and seeing a laugh in his eyes, I answered, much relieved. Ah, Steerforth, it's well for you to joke about the poor. You may skirmish with Ms. Dardle, or try to hide your sympathies in jest from me. Me. But I know better when I see how perfectly you understand them, how exquisitely you enter into happiness like this plain fisherman's or humor, a love like my old nurses. I know that there is not a joy or sorrow, not an emotion of such people that can be indifferent to you. And I admire and love you for it, Steerforth, 20 times more. He stopped and looking in my face, said, daisy, I believe you are in earnest and are good. I wish we all were. Next moment he was gaily singing Mr. Peggy's song as we walked at a round pace back to Yarmouth. Thank you so much for listening. I'd love to know what you thought of the chapters. Is there anything you'd like me to clarify? Did something particularly interest you? Please go to my website, faithkmoore.com click on contact and send me your questions and thoughts. Or you can click on the link in the Show Notes to contact me. I'll feature one or two of your entries at the start of the next episode. Speaking of links, don't forget to take a look at the other links in the Show Notes. You can learn more about me, check out our Merch store, or become a member of the Storytime for Grown Ups online community. Before I go, I'd like to ask a quick favorite. This is an independent podcast. It's produced, recorded and marketed by me, so I need your help. Spread the word about the show by posting about it on social media or texting a link to your friends. Subscribe, tap those five stars and leave a positive review wherever you're listening. If you are able to support the show financially, there's a link in the Show Notes to make a donation. I would really, really appreciate it. All right, everyone, story time is over. To be continued.