David Copperfield | Page 9

this, but sit and look at her feebly, as
she sat and looked at the fire, until he was called upstairs again. After
some quarter of an hour's absence, he returned.
'Well?' said my aunt, taking the cotton out of the ear nearest to him.
'Well, ma'am,' returned Mr. Chillip, 'we are- we are progressing slowly,
ma'am.'
'Ba--a--ah!' said my aunt, with a perfect shake on the contemptuous
interjection. And corked herself as before.
Really - really - as Mr. Chillip told my mother, he was almost shocked;
speaking in a professional point of view alone, he was almost shocked.
But he sat and looked at her, notwithstanding, for nearly two hours, as
she sat looking at the fire, until he was again called out. After another
absence, he again returned.

'Well?' said my aunt, taking out the cotton on that side again.
'Well, ma'am,' returned Mr. Chillip, 'we are - we are progressing slowly,
ma'am.'
'Ya--a--ah!' said my aunt. With such a snarl at him, that Mr. Chillip
absolutely could not bear it. It was really calculated to break his spirit,
he said afterwards. He preferred to go and sit upon the stairs, in the
dark and a strong draught, until he was again sent for.
Ham Peggotty, who went to the national school, and was a very dragon
at his catechism, and who may therefore be regarded as a credible
witness, reported next day, that happening to peep in at the
parlour-door an hour after this, he was instantly descried by Miss
Betsey, then walking to and fro in a state of agitation, and pounced
upon before he could make his escape. That there were now occasional
sounds of feet and voices overhead which he inferred the cotton did not
exclude, from the circumstance of his evidently being clutched by the
lady as a victim on whom to expend her superabundant agitation when
the sounds were loudest. That, marching him constantly up and down
by the collar (as if he had been taking too much laudanum), she, at
those times, shook him, rumpled his hair, made light of his linen,
stopped his ears as if she confounded them with her own, and otherwise
tousled and maltreated him. This was in part confirmed by his aunt,
who saw him at half past twelve o'clock, soon after his release, and
affirmed that he was then as red as I was.
The mild Mr. Chillip could not possibly bear malice at such a time, if at
any time. He sidled into the parlour as soon as he was at liberty, and
said to my aunt in his meekest manner:
'Well, ma'am, I am happy to congratulate you.'
'What upon?' said my aunt, sharply.
Mr. Chillip was fluttered again, by the extreme severity of my aunt's
manner; so he made her a little bow and gave her a little smile, to
mollify her.

'Mercy on the man, what's he doing!' cried my aunt, impatiently. 'Can't
he speak?'
'Be calm, my dear ma'am,' said Mr. Chillip, in his softest accents.
'There is no longer any occasion for uneasiness, ma'am. Be calm.'
It has since been considered almost a miracle that my aunt didn't shake
him, and shake what he had to say, out of him. She only shook her own
head at him, but in a way that made him quail.
'Well, ma'am,' resumed Mr. Chillip, as soon as he had courage, 'I am
happy to congratulate you. All is now over, ma'am, and well over.'
During the five minutes or so that Mr. Chillip devoted to the delivery of
this oration, my aunt eyed him narrowly.
'How is she?' said my aunt, folding her arms with her bonnet still tied
on one of them.
'Well, ma'am, she will soon be quite comfortable, I hope,' returned Mr.
Chillip. 'Quite as comfortable as we can expect a young mother to be,
under these melancholy domestic circumstances. There cannot be any
objection to your seeing her presently, ma'am. It may do her good.'
'And SHE. How is SHE?' said my aunt, sharply.
Mr. Chillip laid his head a little more on one side, and looked at my
aunt like an amiable bird.
'The baby,' said my aunt. 'How is she?'
'Ma'am,' returned Mr. Chillip, 'I apprehended you had known. It's a
boy.'
My aunt said never a word, but took her bonnet by the strings, in the
manner of a sling, aimed a blow at Mr. Chillip's head with it, put it on
bent, walked out, and never came back. She vanished like a
discontented fairy; or like one of those supernatural beings, whom it

was popularly supposed I was entitled to see; and never came back any
more.
No. I lay in my basket, and my mother lay in her bed; but Betsey
Trotwood Copperfield was for