“Well, then, he shall! I thought he looked as if he did!” returned Miss Mowcher, waddling up to me, bag in hand, and laughing on me as she came. “Face like a peach!” standing on tiptoe to pinch my cheek as I sat. “Quite tempting! I’m very fond of peaches. Happy to make your acquaintance, Mr. Copperfield, I’m sure.”

I said that I congratulated myself on having the honour to make hers, and that the happiness was mutual.

“Oh, my goodness, how polite we are!” exclaimed Miss Mowcher, making a preposterous attempt to cover her large face with her morsel of a hand. “What a world of gammon and spinach it is, though, ain’t it!”

This was addressed confidentially to both of us, as the morsel of a hand came away from the face, and buried itself, arm and all, in the bag again.

“What do you mean, Miss Mowcher?” said Steerforth.