“Come, sir,” said Mrs. Crupp. “Excuse me. I know what it is, sir. There’s a lady in the case.”
“ Mrs. Crupp?” I returned, reddening.
“Oh, bless you! Keep a good heart, sir!” said Mrs. Crupp, nodding encouragement. “Never say die, sir! If She don’t smile upon you, there’s a many as will. You are a young gentleman to be smiled on, Mr. Copperfull, and you must learn your walue, sir.”
Mrs. Crupp always called me Mr. Copperfull: firstly, no doubt, because it was not my name; and secondly, I am inclined to think, in some indistinct association with a washing-day.
“What makes you suppose there is any young lady in the case, Mrs. Crupp?” said I.
“ Mr. Copperfull,” said Mrs. Crupp, with a great deal of feeling, “I’m a mother myself.”
For some time Mrs. Crupp could only lay her hand upon her nankeen bosom, and fortify herself against returning pain with sips of