Page 498 - david-copperfield

Steerforth, addressing his eyes to mine. ‘Eh, Daisy?’
‘Yes, indeed,’ said I.
‘Aha?’ cried the little creature, glancing sharply at my
face, and then peeping round at Steerforth’s. ‘Umph?’
The first exclamation sounded like a question put to both
of us, and the second like a question put to Steerforth only.
She seemed to have found no answer to either, but contin-
ued to rub, with her head on one side and her eye turned
up, as if she were looking for an answer in the air and were
confident of its appearing presently.
‘A sister of yours, Mr. Copperfield?’ she cried, after a
pause, and still keeping the same look-out. ‘Aye, aye?’
‘No,’ said Steerforth, before I could reply. ‘Nothing of the
sort. On the contrary, Mr. Copperfield used - or I am much
mistaken - to have a great admiration for her.’
‘Why, hasn’t he now?’ returned Miss Mowcher. ‘Is he
fickle? Oh, for shame! Did he sip every flower, and change
every hour, until Polly his passion requited? - Is her name
Polly?’
The Elfin suddenness with which she pounced upon me
with this question, and a searching look, quite disconcerted
me for a moment.
‘No, Miss Mowcher,’ I replied. ‘Her name is Emily.’
‘Aha?’ she cried exactly as before. ‘Umph? What a rattle I
am! Mr. Copperfield, ain’t I volatile?’
Her tone and look implied something that was not
agreeable to me in connexion with the subject. So I said, in
a graver manner than any of us had yet assumed: ‘She is as
virtuous as she is pretty. She is engaged to be married to a