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countries； and I cast away in the middle of them。 I felt it was
taking a liberty to sit down； with my cap in my hand； on the corner
of the chair nearest the door； and when the waiter laid a cloth on
purpose for me； and put a set of castors on it； I think I must have
Charles Dickens ElecBook Classics
David Copperfield
turned red all over with modesty。
He brought me some chops； and vegetables； and took the covers
off in such a bouncing manner that I was afraid I must have given
him some offence。 But he greatly relieved my mind by putting a
chair for me at the table； and saying； very affably； ‘Now； six…foot！
come on！’
I thanked him； and took my seat at the board； but found it
extremely difficult to handle my knife and fork with anything like
dexterity； or to avoid splashing myself with the gravy； while he
was standing opposite； staring so hard； and making me blush in
the most dreadful manner every time I caught his eye。 After
watching me into the second chop； he said：
‘There’s half a pint of ale for you。 Will you have it now？’
I thanked him and said； ‘Yes。’ Upon which he poured it out of a
jug into a large tumbler； and held it up against the light； and made
it look beautiful。
‘My eye！’ he said。 ‘It seems a good deal； don’t it？’
‘It does seem a good deal；’ I answered with a smile。 For it was
quite delightful to me； to find him so pleasant。 He was a twinkling…
eyed； pimple…faced man； with his hair standing upright all over his
head； and as he stood with one arm a…kimbo； holding up the glass
to the light with the other hand； he looked quite friendly。
‘There was a gentleman here； yesterday；’ he said—‘a stout
gentleman； by the name of Topsawyer—perhaps you know him？’
‘No；’ I said； ‘I don’t think—’
‘In breeches and gaiters； broad…brimmed hat； grey coat；
speckled choker；’ said the waiter。
‘No；’ I said bashfully； ‘I haven’t the pleasure—’
‘He came in here；’ said the waiter； looking at the light through
Charles Dickens ElecBook Classics
David Copperfield
the tumbler； ‘ordered a glass of this ale—would order it—I told
him not—drank it； and fell dead。 It was too old for him。 It oughtn’t
to be drawn； that’s the fact。’
I was very much shocked to hear of this melancholy accident；
and said I thought I had better have some water。
‘Why you see；’ said the waiter； still looking at the light through
the tumbler； with one of his eyes shut up； ‘our people don’t like
things being ordered and left。 It offends ’em。 But I’ll drink it； if you
like。 I’m used to it； and use is everything。 I don’t think it’ll hurt me；
if I throw my head back； and take it off quick。 Shall I？’
I replied that he would much oblige me by drinking it； if he
thought he could do it safely； but by no means otherwise。 When he
did throw his head back； and take it off quick； I had a horrible fear；
I confess； of seeing him meet the fate of the lamented Mr。
Topsawyer； and fall lifeless on the carpet。 But it didn’t hurt him。
On the contrary； I thought he seemed the fresher for it。
‘What have we got here？’ he said； putting a fork into my dish。
‘Not chops？’
‘Chops；’ I said。
‘Lord bless my soul！’ he exclaimed； ‘I didn’t know they were
chops。 Why； a chop’s the very thing to take off the bad effects of
that beer！ Ain’t it lucky？’
So he took a chop by the bone in one hand； and a potato in the
other； and ate away with a very good appetite； to my extreme
satisfaction。 He afterwards took another chop； and another potato；
and after that； another chop and another potato。 When we had
done； he brought me a pudding； and having set it before me；
seemed to ruminate； and to become absent in his mind for some
moments。
Charles Dickens ElecBook Classics
David Copperfield
‘How’s the pie？’ he said； rousing himself。
‘It’s a pudding；’ I made answer。
‘Pudding！’ he exclaimed。 ‘Why； bless me； so it is！ What！’ looking
at it nearer。 ‘You don’t mean to say it’s a batter…pudding！’
‘Yes； it is indeed。’
‘Why； a batter…pudding；’ he said； taking up a table…spoon； ‘is my
favourite pudding！ Ain’t that lucky？ Come on； little ’un； and let’s
see who’ll get most。’
The waiter certainly got most。 He entreated me more than once
to come in and win； but what with his table…spoon to my tea…spoon；
his dispatch to my dispatch； and his appetite to my appetite； I was
left far behind at the first mouthful； and had no chance with him。 I
never saw anyone enjoy a pudding so much； I think； and he
laughed； when it was all gone； as if his enjoyment of it lasted still。
Finding him so very friendly and companionable； it was then
that I asked for the pen and ink and paper； to write to Peggotty。
He not only brought it immediately； but was good enough to look
over me while I wrote the letter。 When I had finished it； he asked
me where I was going to school。
I said； ‘Near London；’ which was all I knew。
‘Oh！ my eye！’ he said； looking very low…spirited； ‘I am sorry for
that。’
‘Why？’ I asked him。
‘Oh； Lord！’ he said； shaking his head； ‘that’s the school where
they broke the boy’s ribs—two ribs—a little boy he was。 I should
say he was—let me see—how old are you； about？’
I told him between eight and nine。
‘That’s just his age；’ he said。 ‘He was eight years and six months
old when they broke his first rib； eight years and eight months old
Charles Dickens ElecBook Classics
David Copperfield
when they broke his second； and did for him。’
I could not disguise from myself； or from the waiter； that this
was an uncomfortable coincidence； and inquired how it was done。
His answer was not cheering to my spirits； for it consisted of two
dismal words； ‘With whopping。’
The blowing of the coach…horn in the yard was a seasonable
diversion； which made me get up and hesitatingly inquire； in the
mingled pride and diffidence of having a purse （which I took out of
my pocket）； if there were anything to pay。
‘There’s a sheet of letter…paper；’ he returned。 ‘Did you ever buy
a sheet of letter…paper？’
I could not remember that I ever had。
‘It’s dear；’ he said； ‘on account of the duty。 Threepence。 That’s
the way we’re taxed in this country。 There’s nothing else； except
the waiter。 Never mind the ink。 I lose by that。’
‘What should you—what should I—how much ought I to—what
would it be right to pay the waiter； if you please？’ I stammered；
blushing。
‘If I hadn’t a family； and that family hadn’t the cowpock；’ said
the waiter； ‘I wouldn’t take a sixpence。 If I didn’t support a aged
pairint； and a lovely sister；’—here the waiter was greatly
agitated—‘I wouldn’t take a farthing。 If I had a good place； and
was treated well here； I should beg acceptance of a trifle； instead
of taking of it。 But I live on broken wittles—and I sleep on the
coals’—here the waiter burst into tears。
I was very much concerned for his misfortunes； and felt that
any recognition short of ninepence would be mere brutality an