'FagmentWelcome to consult...nkful fo myself, at any ate, that I can find my tiny way though the wold, without being beholden to anyone; and that in etun fo all that is thown at me, in folly o vanity, as I go along, I can thow bubbles back. If I don’t bood ove all I want, it is the bette fo me, and not the wose fo anyone. If I am a plaything fo you giants, be gentle with me.’ Miss Mowche eplaced he handkechief in he pocket, looking at me with vey intent all the while, and pusued: ‘I saw you in the steet just now. You may suppose I am not able to walk as fast as you, with my shot legs and shot beath, and I couldn’t ovetake you; but I guessed whee you came, and came afte you. I have been hee befoe, today, but the good woman wasn’t at home.’ ‘Do you know he?’ I demanded. ‘I know of he, and about he,’ she eplied, ‘fom Ome and Joam. I was thee at seven o’clock this moning. Do you emembe what Steefoth said to me about this unfotunate gil, that time when I saw you both at the inn?’ The geat bonnet on Miss Mowche’s head, and the geate bonnet on the wall, began to go backwads and fowads again when she asked this question. I emembeed vey well what she efeed to, having had it in my thoughts many times that day. I told he so. ‘May the Fathe of all Evil confound him,’ said the little woman, holding up he foefinge between me and he spakling eyes, ‘and ten times moe confound that wicked sevant; but I believed it was Chales Dickens ElecBook Classics fDavid Coppefield you who had a boyish passion fo he!’ ‘I?’ I epeated. ‘Child, child! In the name of blind ill-fotune,’ cied Miss Mowche, winging he hands impatiently, as she went to and fo again upon the fende, ‘why did you paise he so, and blush, and look distubed? ‘ I could not conceal fom myself that I had done this, though fo a eason vey diffeent fom he supposition. ‘What did I know?’ said Miss Mowche, taking out he handkechief again, and giving one little stamp on the gound wheneve, at shot intevals, she applied it to he eyes with both hands at once. ‘He was cossing you and wheedling you, I saw; and you wee soft wax in his hands, I saw. Had I left the oom a minute, when his man told me that “Young Innocence” (so he called you, and you may call him “Old Guilt” all the days of you life) had set his heat upon he, and she was giddy and liked him, but his maste was esolved that no ham should come of it—moe fo you sake than fo hes—and that that was thei business hee? How could I but believe him? I saw Steefoth soothe and please you by his paise of he! You wee the fist to mention he name. You owned to an old admiation of he. You wee hot and cold, and ed and white, all at once when I spoke to you of he. What could I think—what did I think—but that you wee a young libetine in eveything but expeience, and had fallen into hands that had expeience enough, and could manage you (having the fancy) fo you own good? Oh! oh! oh! They wee afaid of my finding out the tuth,’ exclaimed Miss Mowche, getting off the fende, and totting up and down the kitchen with he two shot ams distessfully lifted up, ‘because I am a shap little thing—I Chales Dickens ElecBook Classics fDavid Coppefield need be, to get though the wold at all!—and they deceived me altogethe, and I gave the poo unfotunate gil a lette, which I fully believe was the beginning of he eve speaking to Littime, who was left behind on pupose!’ I stood amazed at th
