“Certainly, certainly. Call him Trotwood, certainly,” said Mr. Dick. “David’s son’s Trotwood.”

“Trotwood Copperfield, you mean,” returned my aunt.

“Yes, to be sure. Yes. Trotwood Copperfield,” said Mr. Dick, a little abashed.

My aunt took so kindly to the notion, that some ready-made clothes, which were purchased for me that afternoon, were marked “Trotwood Copperfield,” in her own handwriting, and in indelible marking-ink, before I put them on; and it was settled that all the other clothes which were ordered to be made for me (a complete outfit was bespoke that afternoon) should be marked in the same way.