Page 493 - david-copperfield

returned Miss Mowcher, waddling up to me, bag in hand,
and laughing on me as she came. ‘Face like a peach!’ stand-
ing on tiptoe to pinch my cheek as I sat. ‘Quite tempting!
I’m very fond of peaches. Happy to make your acquaintance,
Mr. Copperfield, I’m sure.’
I said that I congratulated myself on having the honour
to make hers, and that the happiness was mutual.
‘Oh, my goodness, how polite we are!’ exclaimed Miss
Mowcher, making a preposterous attempt to cover her large
face with her morsel of a hand. ‘What a world of gammon
and spinnage it is, though, ain’t it!’
This was addressed confidentially to both of us, as the
morsel of a hand came away from the face, and buried itself,
arm and all, in the bag again.
‘What do you mean, Miss Mowcher?’ said Steerforth.
‘Ha! ha! ha! What a refreshing set of humbugs we are, to
be sure, ain’t we, my sweet child?’ replied that morsel of a
woman, feeling in the bag with her head on one side and her
eye in the air. ‘Look here!’ taking something out. ‘Scraps
of the Russian Prince’s nails. Prince Alphabet turned top-
sy-turvy, I call him, for his name’s got all the letters in it,
higgledy-piggledy.’
‘The Russian Prince is a client of yours, is he?’ said Steer-
forth.
‘I believe you, my pet,’ replied Miss Mowcher. ‘I keep his
nails in order for him. Twice a week! Fingers and toes.’
‘He pays well, I hope?’ said Steerforth.
‘Pays, as he speaks, my dear child - through the nose,’ re-
plied Miss Mowcher. ‘None of your close shavers the Prince

David Copperfield