“you like that, don't you?

If you're not tired, Mr. Pip — though I know it's tiring to strangers — will you tip him one more? You can't think how it pleases him.”

I tipped him several more, and he was in great spirits. We left him bestirring himself to feed the fowls, and we sat down to our punch in the arbor; where Wemmick told me, as he smoked a pipe, that it had taken him a good many years to bring the property up to its present pitch of perfection.

“Is it your own, Mr. Wemmick?”

“O yes,” said Wemmick, “I have got hold of it, a bit at a time.

It's a freehold, by George!”

“Is it indeed? I hope Mr. Jaggers admires it?”