“What a hard thing!” I exclaimed indignantly.

“It was a⁠—it was a pull,” said Traddles, with his usual wince at that expression. “I don’t mention it reproachfully, however, but with a motive. The fact is, Copperfield, I was unable to repurchase them at the time of their seizure; in the first place, because the broker, having an idea that I wanted them, ran the price up to an extravagant extent; and, in the second place, because I⁠—hadn’t any money. Now, I have kept my eye since, upon the broker’s shop,” said Traddles, with a great enjoyment of his mystery, “which is up at the top of Tottenham Court Road, and, at last, today I find them put out for sale. I have only noticed them from over the way, because if the broker saw me , bless you, he’d ask any price for them! What has occurred to me, having now the money, is, that perhaps you wouldn’t object to ask that good nurse of yours to come with me to the shop⁠—I can show it her from round the corner of the next street⁠—and make the best bargain for them, as if they were for herself, that she can!”