“And you, Master⁠—I should say, Mister Copperfield,” pursued Uriah. “I hope I see you well! I am rejoiced to see you, Mister Copperfield, even under present circumstances.” I believed that; for he seemed to relish them very much. “Present circumstances is not what your friends would wish for you, Mister Copperfield, but it isn’t money makes the man: it’s⁠—I am really unequal with my ’umble powers to express what it is,” said Uriah, with a fawning jerk, “but it isn’t money!”

Here he shook hands with me: not in the common way, but standing at a good distance from me, and lifting my hand up and down like a pump handle, that he was a little afraid of.

“And how do you think we are looking, Master Copperfield⁠—I should say, Mister?” fawned Uriah. “Don’t you find Mr. Wickfield blooming, sir? Years don’t tell much in our firm, Master Copperfield, except in raising up the ’umble, namely, mother and self⁠—and in developing,” he added, as an afterthought, “the beautiful, namely, Miss Agnes.”