garden, ‘where a person loves, a person is a little jealous — leastways, anxious to keep an eye on the beloved one.’

‘Of whom are you jealous, now?’ said I.

‘Thanks to you, Master Copperfield,’ he returned, ‘of no one in particular just at present — no male person, at least.’

‘Do you mean that you are jealous of a female person?’

He gave me a sidelong glance out of his sinister red eyes, and laughed.

‘Really, Master Copperfield,’ he said, ‘ — I should say Mister, but I know you’ll excuse the abit I’ve got into — you’re so insinuating, that you draw me like a corkscrew! Well, I don’t