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me to get rid of you. Go along! I’ll talk to you presently.’
‘If there is a scoundrel on this earth,’ said Mr. Micawber,
suddenly breaking out again with the utmost vehemence,
‘with whom I have already talked too much, that scoundrel’s
name is - HEEP!’
Uriah fell back, as if he had been struck or stung. Looking
slowly round upon us with the darkest and wickedest ex-
pression that his face could wear, he said, in a lower voice:
‘Oho! This is a conspiracy! You have met here by ap-
pointment! You are playing Booty with my clerk, are you,
Copperfield? Now, take care. You’ll make nothing of this.
We understand each other, you and me. There’s no love be-
tween us. You were always a puppy with a proud stomach,
from your first coming here; and you envy me my rise, do
you? None of your plots against me; I’ll counterplot you!
Micawber, you be off. I’ll talk to you presently.’
‘Mr. Micawber,’ said I, ‘there is a sudden change in this
fellow. in more respects than the extraordinary one of his
speaking the truth in one particular, which assures me that
he is brought to bay. Deal with him as he deserves!’
‘You are a precious set of people, ain’t you?’ said Uriah,
in the same low voice, and breaking out into a clammy heat,
which he wiped from his forehead, with his long lean hand,
‘to buy over my clerk, who is the very scum of society, - as
you yourself were, Copperfield, you know it, before anyone
had charity on you, - to defame me with his lies? Miss Trot-
wood, you had better stop this; or I’ll stop your husband
shorter than will be pleasant to you. I won’t know your sto-
ry professionally, for nothing, old lady! Miss Wickfield, if

111 David Copperfield