“Two parties, of course!” said Mr. Omer, nodding his head retrospectively. “Ex-actly so! And Joram’s at work, at this minute, on a grey one with silver nails, not this measurement”⁠—the measurement of the dancing child upon the counter⁠—“by a good two inches. Will you take something?”

I thanked him, but declined.

“Let me see,” said Mr. Omer. “Barkis’s the carrier’s wife⁠—Peggotty’s the boatman’s sister⁠—she had something to do with your family? She was in service there, sure?”

My answering in the affirmative gave him great satisfaction.