Merely looking at me with extravagant slyness, and not waiting for any reply, she continued, without drawing breath:

“There! If ever any scapegrace was trimmed and touched up to perfection, you are, Steerforth. If I understand any noddle in the world, I understand yours. Do you hear me when I tell you that, my darling? I understand yours,” peeping down into his face. “Now you may mizzle, jemmy (as we say at Court), and if Mr. Copperfield will take the chair I’ll operate on him.”

“What do you say, Daisy?” inquired Steerforth, laughing, and resigning his seat. “Will you be improved?”

“Thank you, Miss Mowcher, not this evening.”

“Don’t say no,” returned the little woman, looking at me with the aspect of a connoisseur; “a little bit more eyebrow?”

“Thank you,” I returned, “some other time.”