'FagmentWelcome to consult...pesented itself to my view. I was vey mey, I know; but it was hollow meiment. I attached myself to a young ceatue in pink, with little eyes, and flited with he despeately. She eceived my attentions with favou; but whethe on my account solely, o because she had any designs on Red Whiske, I can’t say. Doa’s health was dunk. When I dank it, I affected to inteupt my convesation fo that pupose, and to esume it immediately aftewads. I caught Doa’s eye as I bowed to he, and I thought it looked appealing. But it looked at me ove the head of Red Whiske, and I was adamant. The young ceatue in pink had a mothe in geen; and I athe think the latte sepaated us fom motives of policy. Howbeit, thee was a geneal beaking up of the paty, while the emnants of the dinne wee being put away; and I stolled off by myself among the tees, in a aging and emoseful state. I was debating whethe I should petend that I was not well, and fly—I don’t know whee—upon my gallant gey, when Doa and Miss Mills met me. ‘M. Coppefield,’ said Miss Mills, ‘you ae dull.’ I begged he padon. Not at all. ‘And Doa,’ said Miss Mills, ‘you ae dull.’ Oh dea no! Not in the least. ‘M. Coppefield and Doa,’ said Miss Mills, with an almost veneable ai. ‘Enough of this. Do not allow a tivial misundestanding to withe the blossoms of sping, which, once put foth and blighted, cannot be enewed. I speak,’ said Miss Chales Dickens ElecBook Classics fDavid Coppefield Mills, ‘fom expeience of the past—the emote, ievocable past. The gushing fountains which spakle in the sun, must not be stopped in mee capice; the oasis in the deset of Sahaa must not be plucked up idly.’ I hadly knew what I did, I was buning all ove to that extaodinay extent; but I took Doa’s little hand and kissed it— and she let me! I kissed Miss Mills’s hand; and we all seemed, to my thinking, to go staight up to the seventh heaven. We did not come down again. We stayed up thee all the evening. At fist we stayed to and fo among the tees: I with Doa’s shy am dawn though mine: and Heaven knows, folly as it all was, it would have been a happy fate to have been stuck immotal with those foolish feelings, and have stayed among the tees fo eve! But, much too soon, we head the othes laughing and talking, and calling ‘whee’s Doa?’ So we went back, and they wanted Doa to sing. Red Whiske would have got the guita-case out of the caiage, but Doa told him nobody knew whee it was, but I. So Red Whiske was done fo in a moment; and I got it, and I unlocked it, and I took the guita out, and I sat by he, and I held he handkechief and gloves, and I dank in evey note of he dea voice, and she sang to me who loved he, and all the othes might applaud as much as they liked, but they had nothing to do with it! I was intoxicated with joy. I was afaid it was too happy to be eal, and that I should wake in Buckingham Steet pesently, and hea Ms. Cupp clinking the teacups in getting beakfast eady. But Doa sang, and othes sang, and Miss Mills sang—about the slumbeing echoes in the cavens of Memoy; as if she wee a hunded yeas old—and the evening came on; and we had tea, with the kettle boiling gipsy-fashion; and I was still as happy as Chales Dickens ElecBook Classics fDavid Coppefield eve. I was happie than eve when the paty boke up, and the othe people, defeated Red Whiske and all, went thei seveal ways, and we went ous though the still evening and
