“No. You see the truth is,” said Traddles, in a whisper, “he had changed his name to Mortimer, in consequence of his temporary embarrassments; and he don’t come out till after dark⁠—and then in spectacles. There was an execution put into our house, for rent. Mrs. Micawber was in such a dreadful state that I really couldn’t resist giving my name to that second bill we spoke of here. You may imagine how delightful it was to my feelings, Copperfield, to see the matter settled with it, and Mrs. Micawber recover her spirits.”

“Hum!” said I. “Not that her happiness was of long duration,” pursued Traddles, “for, unfortunately, within a week another execution came in. It broke up the establishment. I have been living in a furnished apartment since then, and the Mortimers have been very private indeed. I hope you won’t think it selfish, Copperfield, if I mention that the broker carried off my little round table with the marble top, and Sophy’s flowerpot and stand?”