“You have heard something, I des-say, of a change in my expectations, Master Copperfield—I should say, Mister Copperfield?” observed Uriah.
“Yes,” said I, “something.”
“Ah! I thought Miss Agnes would know of it!” he quietly returned. “I’m glad to find Miss Agnes knows of it. Oh, thank you, Master—Mister Copperfield!”
I could have thrown my bootjack at him (it lay ready on the rug), for having entrapped me into the disclosure of anything concerning Agnes, however immaterial. But I only drank my coffee.
“What a prophet you have shown yourself, Mister Copperfield!” pursued Uriah. “Dear me, what a prophet you have proved yourself to be! Don’t you remember saying to me once, that perhaps I should be a partner in Mr. Wickfield’s business, and perhaps it might be Wickfield and Heep? You may not recollect it; but when a person is ’umble, Master Copperfield, a person treasures such things up!”
“I recollect talking about it,” said I, “though I certainly did not think it very likely then.”
“Oh! who would have thought it likely, Mister Copperfield!” returned Uriah, enthusiastically. “I am sure I didn’t myself. I recollect saying with my own lips that I was much too ’umble. So I considered myself really and truly.”
He sat, with that carved grin on his face, looking at the fire, as I looked at him.
“But the ’umblest persons, Master Copperfield,” he presently resumed, “may be the instruments of good. I am glad to think I have been the instrument of good to Mr. Wickfield, and that I may be more so. Oh what a worthy man he is, Mister Copperfield, but how imprudent he has been!”