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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. Hello. Welcome back. This is another pre recorded episode. It's the last one, the second and the last pre recorded episode. I will be back on Monday and I miss you and I miss you guys. I miss having your letters to respond to. I miss reading these chapters and then hearing from you. It's not nearly as fun to just be talking into the void by myself. I really want to know. I'm dying to know what you guys think of these chapters. So I'm very glad that I'm going to be back on Monday and it serves as just a reminder if I needed one, of how important you all are to this show. This show is nothing without without you. It's the letters that you send and the reactions that you have and the way that I get to interact with those that make this show what it is. So thank you. Thank you for listening and being a part of story time for Grown ups. I could not do this show without you. But for now, I am without you. And so I'm going to soldier on. I'm going to limp along until we can be back together again. So before I do that, just on all the usual reminders, please make sure you're subscribed. Tap the five stars if you're enjoying the show, leave a positive review if you're enjoying the show and your podcast player and spread the word. Tell everyone about this show that you can. Because the more people reading these books and talking about them, the better the world is going to be. So please do that if you can. Okay, let's get into this episode. Last time we read chapter 26, today we're reading chapter 27 and I will talk for a little bit about the chapter 26 and then we'll get into the chapter. But first, here is the recap. Okay, so where we left off, David says goodbye to Agnes, who is leaving London and going home. And David is upset to see that Uriah Heep is going home by the same carriage. He tries to be nice to Uriah for Agnes's sake, but he's very worried that Agnes will agree to marry Uriah for her father's sake. He doesn't say anything to Agnes though, because she doesn't know yet that Uriah wants to marry her and he doesn't want to upset her. But after she's gone, he's worried about it for weeks. And he's also starting to feel worried that maybe Steve dear Forth actually isn't a good influence since Agnes was so negative about him. David's trial period at the law firm is over and so he's now a full time employee. Eventually he gets invited by his boss, Mr. Spenlow, to come to his house for an overnight visit. He knows that Mr. Spenlo has a daughter named Dora and when he gets there he falls immediately in love with her. Dora is a sort of childlike, silly girl and David finds her enchanting. But Dora's hired companion is none other than Ms. Murdstone. Ms. Murdstone suggests that they be civil to each other and David tells her that what she and her brother did to him was awful, but that he will agree to be civil. David spends the whole visit pining over Dora and sort of awkwardly flirting with her. And when he gets back to London, he buys himself a whole new wardrobe and spends all his free time walking around in places where he hopes he might meet her. Sometimes he does, but it's only ever to exchange pleasantries. So now David is in love and everything he does is to try to win Dora's hand. Okay, so no questions, but I will talk to you for a little bit about what I notice. Anyway. So David is in love again, right? I am so. I really am so annoyed that I had to be away for these two chapters in particular because I am dying to know what you all think about this. First of all, this situation with Uriah and Agnes, and now about David's new love interest, Dora Spenlow. But I know your letters will start to come in once these air. And we will talk more about these chapters as well as the chapter we're going to read today when I'm back, which will be on Monday. But for now I will just highlight a few things that stand out to me when I read chapter 26 and then we'll read chapter 27 and then we'll kind of circle back around to chapters 25 and 26 as well as talking about chapter 27 next time when I'm back, when I've gotten your letters and when I know what it is that you are dying to discuss. Not just what I want to talk about, but what you want to talk about. So please do write to me Even though I'm away, I really, really do want to know what you think of these chapters. I really like these chapters, and I want to know what you think. Faith K. Moore.com Click on Contact or scroll into the show notes and click the link that's there. Okay, so, right, anyway, we've got this new love interest for David. He's been in love before, lots of times. He loves to be in love, basically. And Agnes has even started to tease him about it. I think it was in chapter 25 she was reminding him that he promised to tell her when he fell in love. Right. Because he's always falling in love. It began as a child with little Emily, and then it was Ms. Shepherd at school, and then Ms. Larkins, and then it was Ms. Dardle for a second there. And now we've got Dora, the daughter of David's boss at the law firm, Mr. Spenlow. One thing that's kind of interesting and kind of funny and tells us a lot about David, I think, is that there's a way in which David kind of decides that he's going to fall in love with Dora before he even meets her. He gets this very coveted invitation from Mr. Spenlo to come and stay at his house for the weekend. And he's very excited and honored. And he knows that Mr. Spenlo has this daughter who has recently come back from France where she was finishing her education, which is all very grand, you know, upper middle class and upper class girls were often sent abroad to what were called finishing schools where they could perfect their quote, unquote accomplishments, which were things like embroidery and singing and dancing and playing an instrument, basically the sorts of things that a good Victorian woman would need to know in order to get a husband. So David knows that Mr. Spenlo has this daughter who has just come back from this fancy school where she learned all these womanly arts. And the idea of her is sort of already working in his imagination. When he first arrives at the house and he sees the garden, so he hasn't even gone inside yet, his first thought is, this is a quote here. Ms. Spenlo walks by herself. Dear me, okay. And then when he learns Dora's name, before he's even met her, he thinks, dora, what a beautiful name. So it really is like he's setting himself up to fall in love with her. And yes, I suppose if she had turned out to be, like, rude or vulgar or horribly ugly or something, he might have changed his mind about this. But I think generally he is predisposed to fall for her. And so he does. Hard. And the minute he sees her, he says, it was no doubt Mr. Spenlow's voice, but I didn't know it and I didn't care whose voice it was. All was over in a moment. I had fulfilled my destiny. I was a captive and a slave. I loved Dora Spenlo to distraction. Okay. Which sort of begs the question, what is love to David? Right? I mean, love at first sight is a thing. You might believe in it, you might not. But people do say that it can happen. So it's possible that that's what's happening here for David. But it's also possible that what he's taking for love is actually just a sort of attraction or a spark that was kindled by David's predisposition to fall in love with this person. But I do think it speaks volumes about David that he does this, that he wants to fall in love with Mr. Spenlow's daughter, whoever she is, before he's even met her. Because, like we were talking about before, David really craves female companionship. And he's got this romantic, dreamy, creative disposition. So playing the lover comes naturally to him. And playing the ardent, sort of chivalric lover is what he loves most to do. So he's totally gone, like, head over heels in love the minute he sees Dora. And, you know, one of the main reasons that I'm really annoyed that this chapter is happening while I'm away is that I really want to know what you think of Dora and whether or not you like her as a potential romantic partner for David. So please do write in about that. But, you know, she's very pretty. She's sweet, she's playful. She's kind of childlike. Here's how David describes her. He says she had the most delightful little voice, the gayest little laugh, the pleasantest and most fascinating little ways that ever led a lost youth into hopeless slavery. She was rather diminutive, altogether so much the more precious, I thought. You know, it's kind of interesting that the whole previous chapter, so chapter 25 and even the start of this chapter were essentially all about Agnes and Agnes's potential marriage to Uriah Heep. Because it does kind of force a comparison between Agnes and Dora. Especially since Uriah seems to think that David is a threat to his plans to marry Agnes. Not because he just doesn't like Uriah and doesn't feel like he's a good match for Agnes, but because Uriah seems to think that David might be a rival for Agnes's hand in marriage, which he isn't. But he does care deeply about Agnes and he holds her sort of above all other women. And he can't bear the thought of her having to marry someone like Uriah. So the idea of Agnes and marriage with was all over. Chapter 25. It begins this chapter, chapter 26. And then we're introduced to Dora, who David immediately begins to fantasize about marrying. And he imagines that Mr. Spenlo gives his consent and all of this. And I mean, if Uriah needed some proof that David is not after Agnes, I feel like David's feelings for Dora would provide it. Because Dora is a very different sort of person altogether than Agnes. Agnes is sort of this old soul, basically. She's this little housekeeper. She's wise, she's a good angel. She hardly ever cries or allows other people to see her suffering. She worries about her father and about David. And even though she is actually the same age as David, so she's 17 too, she seems like a much more grown up sort of person than David and certainly than Dora. Dora seems much more childlike, much more carefree, more giggly, more teasing. And David just loves this. He eats it up. So it's interesting, I think, to notice that, that this is the kind of woman that David is attracted to, at least at this point in the story. And the other thing that's kind of shocking about Dora, or not about Dora herself, but about meeting Dora, is of course, that Ms. Murdstone is with her. Ms. Murdstone is Dora's paid companion, which is awful for Dora, but it's even more awful for David, I think, to have to encounter her again. And it's worth noting that David finds this lovely, sweet, innocent, sort of childlike person in the care of the same horrible woman who was in charge of him when he was young and when he was an innocent child, basically. It's an odd parallel that Dickens is giving us here. And there's this sort of weird echo of those awful days in the house with the Murdstones when David had to recite his lessons or just sit there silently and everything. It says Ms. Murdstone with a homily before her and her eye upon us, keeping guard vigilantly. Okay, so it's like a sort of mirror of those old days with David as a child somehow. But whereas David was kind of trapped in that situation with the Murdstones and totally under their thumbs, Dora is much freer and more her own person. She has a loving father who dotes on her and wouldn't allow Ms. Murdstone to treat her the way that she treated David. And. And Dora kind of dismisses Ms. Murdstone in a way. She says Papa calls her my confidential friend, but I am sure she is no such thing, is she, Jip? Remember, Jip's the dog, right? So we are not going to confide in any such cross people, Jip and I. We mean to bestow our confidence where we like and to find out our own friends instead of having them found out for us. Don't we, Jip? So it's all very sweet and childlike, and David just loses his heart to her. He loves this childlike way she has about her. And he becomes. And I say this in the most loving way possible, but he becomes a total idiot around her. He becomes completely ridiculous, which is very relatable, I think. Here's what he says. He says that when Ms. Murdstone took her into custody and led her away, she smiled and gave me her delicious hand. That I caught a view of myself in a mirror, looking perfectly imbecile and idiotic. That I retired to bed in a most maudlin state of mind and got up in a crisis of feeble infatuation. I mean, he's a teenager. He's feeling all the overwhelming feelings of teenage romance. And. And he's also David, so he's not going to do this by halves. And he's going to get completely swept up in his feelings for Dora. And I think it's really lovely that we get this little moment with adult David in the middle of all of this where he says there is no doubt whatever that I was a lackadaisical young Spoonie. But there was a purity of heart in all this that prevents my having quite a contemptuous recollection of it. Let me laugh as I may. So the David that is writing the book knows that he was ridiculous. He seems not to be as ridiculous now, which is good to know. But he also has a fondness for his young self and knows that he was really in earnest. He really did feel the way he felt for Dora in that moment at least, and that he honors that now as he looks back on it, which I think is a really wonderful addition on Dickens's part because it acknowledges both that teenage love is almost by definition maudlin and ridiculous, but. But also that it matters. Okay, so now David is in love again, and his greatest aspirations are to be able to court Dora, essentially. Here's what he says. As to marriage and fortune and all that, I believe I was almost as innocently undesigning then as when I loved little Emily. To be allowed to call her Dora, to write to her, to dote upon and worship her, to have reason to think that when she was with other people she was yet mindful of me seeing, seemed to me the summit of human ambition. I am sure it was the summit of mine. Okay, but of course he has to go home, right? He has to go back to London. Dora has to stay behind. David isn't invited back right away, so he has to content himself with kind of wandering around London in his ridiculous clothes, hoping to bump into her, which he does sometimes, but only for these very short little moments. And so he's both hopelessly in love and very miserable, which is about right for a teenager in love, I think. And the chapter ends with this actually very good piece of advice from Mrs. Krupp. You know, David is often getting good advice from people who don't take it themselves. I think the best example of this is Mr. Macawber, who's always telling David, actually quite useful things like don't spend your money if you don't have it, right? And he doesn't, but he doesn't follow his own advice. So now we have Mrs. Krupp, who is really kind of a useless person. But she's telling David, here's the quote. But you are a young gentleman, Mr. Copperful, and my advice to you is to cheer up, sir, to keep a good heart and to know your own value, which is actually really great advice. But will he take it? Will he even ever see Dora again? Will he stay madly in love with her? Or is he gonna move on to the next person like he has done in the past? We can only find out in one way, and that way is to keep reading. So we're gonna do that now. Please do write to me. I cannot wait to hear what you thought of these chapters that we read while I was gone. And I will be back again with you on Monday. I can't wait. All right, let's get started with chapter 27 of David Copperfield by Charles Dickens. It's story time. Chapter 27, Tommy Traddles. It may have been in consequence of Mrs. Crupp's advice, and perhaps for no better reason than because there was a certain similarity in the sound of the words skittles and Traddles that it came into my head next day to go and look after Traddles. The time he had mentioned was more than out. And he lived in a little street near the veterinary College at Camden Town, which was principally tenanted, as one of our clerks who lived in that direction informed me, by gentlemen students who bought live donkeys and made experiments on those quadrupeds in their private apartments. Having obtained from this clerk a direction to the academic grove in question, I set out the same afternoon to visit my old schoolfellow. I found that the street was not as desirable a one as I could have wished it to be for the sake of traddles. The inhabitants appeared to have a propensity to throw any little trifles they were not in want of into the road, which not only made it rank and sloppy, but untidy too, on account of the cabbage leaves. The refuse was not wholly vegetable either, for I myself saw a shoe, a doubled up saucepan, a black bonnet, and an umbrella in various stages of decomposition as I was looking out for the number I wanted. The general air of the place reminded me forcibly of the days when I lived with Mr. And Mrs. Micawber, an indescribable character of faded gentility that attached to the house I sought and made it unlike all the other houses in the street, though they were all built on one monotonous pattern and looked like the early copies of a blundering boy who was learning to make houses and had not yet got out of his cramped brick and mortar pothooks, reminded me still more of Mr. And Mrs. Micawber happening to arrive at the door as it was open to the afternoon milkman. I was reminded of Mr. And Mrs. Micawber, who more forcibly yet now, said the milkman to a very youthful servant girl, has that there bill o mine been heard on? Oh, master says he'll attend it immediate, was the reply, because, said the milkman, going on as if he had received no answer, and speaking, as I judged from his tone, rather for the edification of somebody within the house than of the youthful servant, an impression which was stood strengthened by his manner of glaring down the passage. Because that there bill has been running so long that I begin to believe it's run away altogether and never won't be heard of. Now I'm not a going to stand it, you know, said the milkman, still throwing his voice into the house and glaring down the passage. Okay, so the milkman hasn't been paid, and he's trying to convey that he needs to be paid, or he won't bring any more milk. As to his dealing in the mild article of milk, by the by, there never was a greater anomaly. His deportment would have been fierce in a butcher or a brandy merchant. The voice of the youthful servant became faint, but she seemed to me, from the action of her lips again to murmur that it would be attended to immediate. I tell you what, said the milkman, looking hard at her for the first time and taking her by the chin. Are you fond of milk? Yes, I likes it, she replied. Good, said the milkman. Then you won't have none to morrow, d' ye hear? Not a fragment of milk. You won't have to morrow, I thought. She seemed upon the whole relieved by the prospect of having any to day. The milkman, after shaking his head at her darkly, released her chin, and with anything rather than good will opened his can and deposited the usual quantity in the family jug. This done he went away muttering, and uttered the cry of his trade next door in a vindictive shriek. Does Mr. Traddles live here? I then inquired. A mysterious voice from the end of the passage replied, yes. Upon which the youthful servant replied yes. Is he at home? Said I. Again the mysterious voice replied in the affirmative, and again the servant echoed it. Upon this I walked in, and in pursuance of the servant's directions, walked upstairs, conscious as I passed the back parlour, that I was surveyed by a mysterious eye, probably belonging to the mysterious voice. When I got to the top of the stairsthe house was only a story high above the ground floor. Traddles was on the landing to meet me. He was delighted to see me, and gave me welcome with great heartiness in his little room. It was in the front of the house, and extremely neat, though sparely furnished. It was his only room I saw, for there was a sofa bedstead in it, and his blacking brushes and blacking were among his books on the top shelf behind a dictionary. So blacking brushes are for polishing shoes, and the blacking is the polish itself. His table was covered with papers, and he was hard at work in an old coat. I looked at nothing that I know of, but I saw everything, even to the prospect of a church upon his china inkstand as I sat down. And this too was a faculty confirmed in me in the old micawber times, various ingenious arrangements he had made for the disguise of his chest of drawers, and the accommodation of his boots, his shaving glass, and so forth particularly impressed themselves upon me as evidence of the same Traddles who used to make models of elephants dens in writing paper, to put flies in, and to comfort himself under ill usage with the memorable works of art I have so often mentioned, meaning the Skeletons that Traddles used to draw at school. In a corner of the room was something neatly covered up with a large white cloth. I could not make out what that was. Traddles, said I, shaking hands with him again after I had sat down. I am delighted to see you. I am delighted to see you, Copperfield, he returned. I am very glad indeed to see you. It was because I was thoroughly glad to see you when we met in Ely Place, and was sure you were thoroughly glad to see me that I gave you this address instead of my address at Chambers. Oh, have you Chambers? Said I. Why, I have the fourth of a room and a passage. And the fourth of a clerk returned. Traddles, three others and myself unite to have a set of chambers to look businesslike. And we quarter the clerk too. Half a crown a week he costs me. So he's saying that he and three other lawyers essentially have an office together and pay between them to have one clerk, basically, so that they can look more official. His old simple character and good temper and something of his old unlucky fortune also, I thought, smiled at me in the smile with which he made this exquisite explanation. It's not because I have the least pride Copperfields, you understand, said Traddles, that I don't usually give my address here. It's only on account of those who come to me who might not like to come here for myself. I am fighting my way on in the world against difficulties, and it would be ridiculous if I made a pretense of doing anything else. So he's acknowledging that he's poor and in debt. You are reading for the bar, Mr. Waterbrook informs me, said I. Why, yes, said Traddles, rubbing his hands slowly over one another. I am reading for the Bar. The fact is, I have just begun to keep my terms after rather a long delay. It's some time since I was articled, but the payment of that hundred pounds was a great pull. A great pull. Said Traddles with a wince, as if he had had a tooth out. Do you know what? I can't help thinking of Traddles as I sit here looking at you? I asked him. No, said he, that sky blue suit you used to wear. Lord, to be sure. Cried Traddles, laughing. Tighten the arms and legs. You know, dear me, well, those were happy times, weren't they? I think our schoolmaster might have made them happier without doing any harm to any of us, I acknowledge I returned. Perhaps he might, said Traddles. But dear me, there was a good deal of fun going on do you remember the nights in the bedroom when we used to have the suppers and when you used to tell the stories? And do you remember when I got caned for crying about Mr. Mel. Old Creakle. I should like to see him again too. He was a brute to you, Traddles, said I indignantly, for his good humor. Made me feel as if I had seen him beaten but yesterday. Do you think so? Returned Traddles. Really? Perhaps he was rather. But it's all over a long while, old Creakle. You were brought up by an uncle then, said I. Of course I was, said Traddles. The one I was always going to write to and always didn't, eh? Yes, I had an uncle then. He died soon after I left school. Indeed? Yes. He was a retired. What d' ye call it? Draper, Cloth merchant, and had made me his heir. But he didn't like me when I grew up. Do you really mean that? Said I. He was so composed that I fancied he must have some other meaning. Oh dear, yes, Copperfield. I mean it, replied Traddles. It was an unfortunate thing, but he didn't like me at all. He said I wasn't at all what he expected and so he married his housekeeper. And what did you do? I asked. I didn't do anything in particular, said Traddles. I lived with them, waiting to be put out in the world until his gout unfortunately flew to his stomach and so he died. And so she married a young man and so I wasn't provided for. Did you get nothing, Traddles, after all? Oh dear, yes, said traddles. I got £50. I had never been brought up to any profession, and at first I was at a loss what to do for myself. I, however, I began with the assistance of the son of a professional man who had been to Salem House. Yaller with his nose on one side. Do you recollect him? No, he had not been there with me. All the noses were straight in my day. It don't matter, said Traddles. I began by means of his assistance to copy law writings that didn't answer very well, and then I began to state cases for them and make abstracts in that sort of work. For I am a plodding kind of fellow, Copperfield, and had learnt the way of doing such things pithily well that put in my head to enter myself as a law student, and that ran away with all that was left of the £50. Yaller recommended me to one or two other offices. However, Mr. Waterbrook's for one, and I got a good many jobs. I was fortunate enough too to become acquainted with a person in the publishing way who was getting up an encyclopedia, and he sent me to work. And indeed, glancing at his table, I am at work for him at this minute. I am not a bad compiler, Copperfield, said Traddles, preserving the same air of cheerful confidence in all, he said, but I have no invention at all, not a particle. I suppose there never was a young man with less originality than I have, as Traddles seemed to expect that I should assent to this as a matter of course. I nodded, and he went on with the same sprightly patience. I can find no better expression as before. So by little and little, and not living high, I managed to scrape up the hundred pounds at last, said Traddles, and thank heaven that's paid. Though it was. Though it certainly was, said Traddles, wincing again as if he had had another tooth out a pull. I am living by the sort of work I have mentioned still, and I hope one of these days to get connected with some newspaper, which would almost be the making of my fortune. Now, Copperfield, you are so exactly what you used to be with that agreeable face, and it's so pleasant to see you that I shan't conceal anything. Therefore you must know that I am engaged. Engaged? Oh, Dora. Meaning thinking about engagements makes him think of Dora. She is a curate's daughter, said traddles, one of 10 down in Devonshire, Yes. For he saw me glance involuntarily at the prospect on the inkstand. That's the church. You come round here to the left out of this gate, tracing his finger along the inkstand. And exactly where I hold this pen, there stands the house facing, you understand, towards the church. The delight with which he entered into these particulars did not fully present itself to me until afterwards, for my selfish thoughts were making a ground plan of Mr. Spenlow's house and garden at the same moment. She is such a dear girl, said Traddles, a little older than me, but the dearest girl. I told you I was going out of town. I have been down there. I walked there and I walked back, and I had the most delightful time. I dare say ours is likely to be a rather long engagement, but our motto is wait and hope. We always say that. Wait and hope, we always say. And she would wait, Copperfield, till she was 60. Any age you can mention for me. Traddles rose from his chair and with a triumphant smile put his hand upon the white cloth I had observed. However, he said, it is not that we haven't made a beginning towards housekeeping. No, no, we have begun. We must get on by degrees, but we have begun. Here, drawing the cloth off with great pride and care are two pieces of furniture to commence with this flower pot and stand she bought herself. You put that in a parlour window, said Traddles, falling a little back from it to survey it with the greater admiration with a plant in it. And. And there you are, this little round table with the marble top. It's 2ft 10in circumference I bought you want to lay a book down, you know, or somebody comes to see you or your wife and wants a place to stand, a cup of tea upon and. And there you are again, said Traddles. It's an admirable piece of workmanship for Miserach. I praised them both highly, and Traddles replaced the covering as carefully as he had removed it. It's not a great deal towards the furnishing, the said Traddles, but it's something. The tablecloths and pillow cases and articles of that kind are what discourage me most, Copperfield. So does the ironmongery, candle boxes and gridirons, and that sort of necessaries, because those things tell and mount up. However, wait and hope, and I assure you she is the dearest girl. I am quite certain of it, said I. In the meantime, said Traddles, coming back to his chair, and this is the end of my prosing about myself. I get on as well as I can. I don't make much, but I don't spend much. In general, I board with the people downstairs, who are very agreeable people indeed. Both Mr. And Mrs. Micawber have seen a good deal of life and are excellent company. My dear Traddles, I quickly exclaimed, what are you talking about? Traddles looked at me as if he wondered what I was talking about. Mr. And Mrs. Micawber, I repeated. Why, I am intimately acquainted with them. An opportune double knock at the door, which I knew well from old experience in Windsor Terrace, and which nobody but Mr. Micawber could ever have knocked at that door, resolved any doubt in my mind as to their being my old friends. I begged Traddles to ask his landlord to walk up. Traddles accordingly did so over the banister, and Mr. Micawber, not a bit changed his tights, his stick, his shirt collar, and his eye glass all the same as ever, came into the room with a genteel and youthful air. I beg your pardon, Mr. Traddles, said Mr. Micawber with the old roll in his voice as he checked himself in, humming a soft tune. I was not aware that there was any individual alien to this tenement in your sanctum. Mr. Micawber slightly bowed to me and pulled up his shirt collar. How do you do, Mr. Micawber? Said I. Sir, said Mr. Micawber, you are exceedingly obliging. I am in statu quo. And Mrs. Micawber? I pursued. Sir, said Mr. Micawber, she is also, thank God, in statu quo. And the children, Mr. Micawber, sir, said Mr. Micawber, I rejoice to reply that they are likewise in the enjoyment of salubrity. All this time Mr. Micawber had not known me in the least, though he had stood face to face with me. But now, seeing me smile, he examined my features with more attention, fell back, cried, is it possible? Have I the pleasure of again beholding Copperfield? And shook me by both hands with the utmost fervor. Good heaven, Mr. Traddles, said Mr. Micawber, to think that I should find you acquainted with the friend of my youth, the companion of my earlier days, my dear, calling over the banisters to Mrs. Micawber, while traddles looked with reason not a little amazed at this description of me. Here is a gentleman in Mr. Traddles's apartment whom he wishes to have the pleasure of presenting to you, my love. Mr. Micawber immediately reappeared and shook hands with me again. And how is our good friend the Doctor Copperfield? Said Mr. Macabre, and all the circle at Canterbury? I have none but good accounts of them, said I. I am most delighted to hear it, said Mr. Macawer. It was at Canterbury where we last met, within the shadow, I may figuratively say, of that religious edifice immortalized by Chaucer, which was anciently the resort of pilgrims from the remotest corners of in short, said Mr. Micawber, in the immediate neighbourhood of the cathedral, I replied that it was Mr. Micawber continued, talking as volubly as he could, but not, I thought, without showing by some marks of concern in his countenance, that he was sensible of sounds in the next room as of Mrs. Micawber washing her hands and hurriedly opening and shutting drawers that were uneasy in their action. You find us, Copperfield, said Mr. Micawber, with one eye on Traddles, at present established on what may be designated as a small and unassuming scale. But you are aware that I have, in the course of my career surmounted difficulties and conquered obstacles. You are no stranger to the fact that there have been periods of my life when it has been requisite that I should pause until certain expected events should turn up, when it has been necessary that I should fall back before making what I trust I shall not be accused of presuming in terming a spring. The present is one of those momentous stages in the life of man. You find me fallen back for a spring, and I have every reason to believe that a vigorous leap will shortly be the result. I was expressing my satisfaction when Mrs. Micawber came in a little more slatternly than she used to be. Slatternly means dirty or untidy, or so she seemed now to my unaccustomed eyes, but still with some preparation of herself for company, and with a pair of brown gloves on. My dear, said Mr. Micawber, leading her towards me, here is a gentleman of the name of Copperfield who wishes to renew his acquaintance with you. It would have been better, as it turned out, to have led gently up to this announcement, for Mrs. Micawber, being in a delicate state of health, was overcome by it, and was taken so unwell that Mr. Micawber was obliged in great trepidation to run down to the water butt in the back yard and draw a basinful to lave her brow with. She presently revived, however, and was really pleased to see me. We had half an hour's talk all together, and I asked her about the twins, who she said were great grown creatures and after Master and Miss Micawber, whom she described as absolute giants, but they were not produced on that occasion. Mr. Micawber was very anxious that I should stay to dinner. I should not have been adverse to do so, but that I imagined I detected trouble and calculation relative to the extent of the cold meat and in Mrs. Micawber's eye. I therefore pleaded another engagement and observing that Mrs. Micawber's spirits were immediately lightened, I resisted all persuasion to forego it. So he wants to stay for dinner, but realizes they don't actually have enough food for him. So he's saying that he's got to be somewhere else out of a kindness to them. But I told Traddles and Mr. And Mrs. Macawber that before I could think of leaving they must appoint a day when they would come and dine with me. The occupations to which Traddles stood pledged rendered it necessary to fix a somewhat distant one. But an appointment was made for the purpose that suited us all. And then I took my leave Mr. Micawber, under pretence of showing me a nearer way than that by which I had come, accompanied me to the corner of the street. Being anxious, he explained to me to say a few words to an old friend in confidence. My Dear Copperfield, said Mr. Micawber, I need hardly tell you that to have beneath our roof under existing circumstances, a mind like that which gleams, if I may be allowed the expression, which gleams in your friend Traddles is an unspeakable comfort. With a washerwoman who exposes hard bake for sale in her parlour window dwelling next door, and a Bow street officer residing over the way, you may imagine that his society is a source of consolation to myself and to Mrs. Micawber. I am at present, my dear Copperfield, engaged in the sale of corn upon commission. It is not an avocation of remunerative description. In other words, it does not pay. And some temporary embarrassments of a pecuniary nature have been the consequence. I am, however, delighted to add that I have now an immediate prospect of something turning up. I am not at liberty to say in what direction which I trust will enable me to provide permanently, both for myself and for your friend Traddles, in whom I have an unaffected interest. You may perhaps be prepared to hear that Mrs. Micawber is in a state of health which renders it not wholly improbable that an addition may be ultimately made to those pledges of affection which, in short, to the infantine group, meaning Mrs. Micawber is potentially pregnant. Mrs. Micawber's family have been so good as to express their dissatisfaction at this state of things. I have merely to observe that I am not aware that it is any business of theirs and that I repel that exhibition of feeling with scorn and with defiance. Mr. Micawber then shook hands with me again, left me. 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 favor. 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. Alright everyone, story time is over. To be continue. Sam.