Page 283 - david-copperfield

‘Where do you come from?’ asked the tinker, giving his
hand another turn in my shirt, to hold me more securely.
‘I come from London,’ I said.
‘What lay are you upon?’ asked the tinker. ‘Are you a
prig?’
‘N-no,’ I said.
‘Ain’t you, by G—? If you make a brag of your honesty to
me,’ said the tinker, ‘I’ll knock your brains out.’
With his disengaged hand he made a menace of striking
me, and then looked at me from head to foot.
‘Have you got the price of a pint of beer about you?’ said
the tinker. ‘If you have, out with it, afore I take it away!’
I should certainly have produced it, but that I met the
woman’s look, and saw her very slightly shake her head, and
form ‘No!’ with her lips.
‘I am very poor,’ I said, attempting to smile, ‘and have
got no money.’
‘Why, what do you mean?’ said the tinker, looking so
sternly at me, that I almost feared he saw the money in my
pocket.
‘Sir!’ I stammered.
‘What do you mean,’ said the tinker, ‘by wearing my
brother’s silk handkerchief! Give it over here!’ And he had
mine off my neck in a moment, and tossed it to the woman.
The woman burst into a fit of laughter, as if she thought
this a joke, and tossed it back to me, nodded once, as slight-
ly as before, and made the word ‘Go!’ with her lips. Before
I could obey, however, the tinker seized the handkerchief
out of my hand with a roughness that threw me away like a

David Copperfield