That sagacious Miss Mills, too; that amiable, though quite used up, recluse; that little patriarch of something less than twenty, who had done with the world, and mustn’t on any account have the slumbering echoes in the caverns of Memory awakened; what a kind thing she did!

“ Mr. Copperfield,” said Miss Mills, “come to this side of the carriage a moment⁠—if you can spare a moment. I want to speak to you.”

Behold me, on my gallant grey, bending at the side of Miss Mills, with my hand upon the carriage door!