had occurred since Mr. Heep’s decease, she still wore weeds. I think there was some compromise in the cap; but otherwise she was as weedy as in the early days of her mourning.
“This is a day to be remembered, my Uriah, I am sure,” said Mrs. Heep, making the tea, “when Master Copperfield pays us a visit.”
“I said you’d think so, mother,” said Uriah.
“If I could have wished father to remain among us for any reason,” said Mrs. Heep, “it would have been, that he might have known his company this afternoon.”
I felt embarrassed by these compliments; but I was sensible, too, of being entertained as an honoured guest, and I thought Mrs. Heep an agreeable woman.
“My Uriah,” said Mrs. Heep, “has looked forward to this, sir, a long while. He had his fears that our ’umbleness stood in the way, and I joined in them myself. ’Umble we are, ’umble we have been, ’umble we shall ever be,” said Mrs. Heep.