2013年5月24日星期五
ArticleTitle#6406
Charles Dickens ElecBook Classics
David Copperfield
that sort, if I am not mistaken. And a Quaker flying a kite is a
much more ridiculous object than anybody else.’
If I could have supposed that my aunt had recounted these
particulars for my especial behoof, and as a piece of confidence in
me, I should have felt very much distinguished, and should have
augured favourably from such a mark of her good opinion. But I
could hardly help observing that she had launched into them,
chiefly because the question was raised in her own mind, and with
very little reference to me, though she had addressed herself to me
in the absence of anybody else.
At the same time, I must say that the generosity of her
championship of poor harmless Mr. Dick, not only inspired my
young breast with some selfish hope for myself, but warmed it
unselfishly towards her. I believe that I began to know that there
was something about my aunt, notwithstanding her many
eccentricities and odd humours, to be honoured and trusted in.
Though she was just as sharp that day as on the day before, and
was in and out about the donkeys just as often, and was thrown
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