“ Mr. Copperfield,” said Miss Mills, “you are dull.”

I begged her pardon. Not at all.

“And Dora,” said Miss Mills, “ you are dull.”

Oh dear no! Not in the least.

“ Mr. Copperfield and Dora,” said Miss Mills, with an almost venerable air. “Enough of this. Do not allow a trivial misunderstanding to wither the blossoms of spring, which, once put forth and blighted, cannot be renewed. I speak,” said Miss Mills, “from experience of the past⁠—the remote, irrevocable past. The gushing fountains which sparkle in the sun, must not be stopped in mere caprice; the oasis in the desert of Sahara must not be plucked up idly.”