David Copperfield, Charles Dickens [best historical fiction books of all time TXT] 📗

was so fat that he was obliged to pant some time before he could say:

“That’s right.”

“Father!” said Minnie, playfully. “What a porpoise you do grow!”

“Well, I don’t know how it is, my dear,” he replied, considering about it. “I am rather so.”

“You are such a comfortable man, you see,” said Minnie. “You take things so easy.”

“No use taking ’em otherwise, my dear,” said Mr. Omer.

“No, indeed,” returned his daughter. “We are all pretty gay here, thank Heaven! Ain’t we, father?”

“I hope so, my dear,” said Mr. Omer. “As I have got my breath now, I think I’ll measure this young scholar. Would you walk into the shop, Master Copperfield?”

I preceded Mr. Omer, in compliance with his request; and after showing me a roll of cloth which he said was extra super, and too good mourning for anything short of parents, he took my various dimensions, and put them down in a book. While he was recording them he called my attention to his stock in trade, and to certain fashions which he said had “just come up,” and to certain other fashions which he said had “just gone out.”

“And by that sort of thing we very often lose a little mint of money,” said Mr. Omer. “But fashions are like human beings. They come in, nobody knows when, why, or how; and they go out, nobody knows when, why, or how. Everything is like life, in my opinion, if you look at it in that point of view.”

I was too sorrowful to discuss the question, which would possibly have been beyond me under any circumstances; and Mr. Omer took me back into the parlour, breathing with some difficulty on the way.

He then called down a little breakneck range of steps behind a door: “Bring up that tea and bread-and-butter!” which, after some time, during which I sat looking about me and thinking, and listening to the stitching in the room and the tune that was being hammered across the yard, appeared on a tray, and turned out to be for me.

“I have been acquainted with you,” said Mr. Omer, after watching me for some minutes, during which I had not made much impression on the breakfast, for the black things destroyed my appetite, “I have been acquainted with you a long time, my young friend.”

“Have you, sir?”

“All your life,” said Mr. Omer. “I may say before it. I knew your father before you. He was five foot nine and a half, and he lays in five-and-twenty foot of ground.”

“Rat⁠—tat-tat, Rat⁠—tat-tat, Rat⁠—tat-tat,” across the yard.

“He lays in five and twenty foot of ground, if he lays in a fraction,” said Mr. Omer, pleasantly. “It was either his request or her direction, I forget which.”

“Do you know how my little brother is, sir?” I inquired.

Mr. Omer shook his head.

“Rat⁠—tat-tat, Rat⁠—tat-tat, Rat⁠—tat-tat.”

“He is in his mother’s arms,” said he.

“Oh, poor little fellow! Is he dead?”

“Don’t mind it more than you can help,” said Mr. Omer. “Yes. The baby’s dead.”

My wounds broke out afresh at this intelligence. I left the scarcely-tasted breakfast, and went and rested my head on another table, in a corner of the little room, which Minnie hastily cleared, lest I should spot the mourning that was lying there with my tears. She was a pretty, good-natured girl, and put my hair away from my eyes with a soft, kind touch; but she was very cheerful at having nearly finished her work and being in good time, and was so different from me!

Presently the tune left off, and a good-looking young fellow came across the yard into the room. He had a hammer in his hand, and his mouth was full of little nails, which he was obliged to take out before he could speak.

“Well, Joram!” said Mr. Omer. “How do you get on?”

“All right,” said Joram. “Done, sir.”

Minnie coloured a little, and the other two girls smiled at one another.

“What! you were at it by candlelight last night, when I was at the club, then? Were you?” said Mr. Omer, shutting up one eye.

“Yes,” said Joram. “As you said we could make a little trip of it, and go over together, if it was done, Minnie and me⁠—and you.”

“Oh! I thought you were going to leave me out altogether,” said Mr. Omer, laughing till he coughed.

“⁠—As you was so good as to say that,” resumed the young man, “why I turned to with a will, you see. Will you give me your opinion of it?”

“I will,” said Mr. Omer, rising. “My dear;” and he stopped and turned to me: “would you like to see your⁠—”

“No, father,” Minnie interposed.

“I thought it might be agreeable, my dear,” said Mr. Omer. “But perhaps you’re right.”

I can’t say how I knew it was my dear, dear mother’s coffin that they went to look at. I had never heard one making; I had never seen one that I know of: but it came into my mind what the noise was, while it was going on; and when the young man entered, I am sure I knew what he had been doing.

The work being now finished, the two girls, whose names I had not heard, brushed the shreds and threads from their dresses, and went into the shop to put that to rights, and wait for customers. Minnie stayed behind to fold up what they had made, and pack it in two baskets. This she did upon her knees, humming a lively little tune the while. Joram, who I had no doubt was her lover, came in and stole a kiss from her while she was busy (he didn’t appear to mind me, at all), and said her father was gone for the chaise, and he must make haste and get himself ready. Then he went out again; and then she put her thimble and scissors in her pocket, and stuck a needle threaded with black thread neatly in the bosom of her gown, and put on her outer clothing smartly, at a little glass behind the door, in which I saw the reflection of her pleased face.

All this I observed,