Traddles looked at me, as if he wondered what I was talking about.

“Mr. and Mrs. Micawber!” I repeated. “Why, I am intimately acquainted with them!”

An opportune double knock at the door, which I knew well from old experience in Windsor Terrace, and which nobody but Mr. Micawber could ever have knocked at that door, resolved any doubt in my mind as to their being my old friends. I begged Traddles to ask his landlord to walk up. Traddles accordingly did so, over the banister; and Mr. Micawber, not a bit changed—his tights, his stick, his shirt-collar, and his eye-glass, all the same as ever—came into the room with a genteel and youthful air.

“I beg your pardon, Mr. Traddles,” said Mr. Micawber, with the old roll in his voice, as he checked himself in humming a soft tune. “I was not aware that there was any individual, alien to this tenement, in your sanctum.”

Mr. Micawber slightly bowed to me, and pulled up his shirt-collar.

“How do you do, Mr. Micawber?” said I.

“Sir,” said Mr. Micawber, “you are exceedingly obliging. I am in statu quo.”

“And Mrs. Micawber?” I pursued.

“Sir,” said Mr. Micawber, “she is also, thank God, in statu quo.”

“And the children, Mr. Micawber?”

“Sir,” said Mr. Micawber, “I rejoice to reply that they are, likewise, in the enjoyment of salubrity.”

All this time, Mr. Micawber had not known me in the least, though he had stood face to face with me. But, now, seeing me smile, he examined my features with more attention, fell back, cried, “Is it possible! Have I the pleasure of again beholding Copperfield!” and shook me by both hands with the utmost fervour.

“Good Heaven, Mr. Traddles!” said Mr. Micawber, “to think that I should find you acquainted with the friend of my youth, the companion of earlier days! My dear!” calling over the banisters to Mrs. Micawber, while Traddles looked (with reason) not a little amazed at this description of me. “Here is a gentleman in Mr. Traddles’s apartment, whom he wishes to have the pleasure of presenting to you, my love!”

Mr. Micawber immediately reappeared, and shook hands with me again.

“And how is our good friend the Doctor, Copperfield?” said Mr. Micawber, “and all the circle at Canterbury?”

“I have none but good accounts of them,” said I.

“I am most delighted to hear it,” said Mr. Micawber. “It was at Canterbury where we last met. Within the shadow, I may figuratively say, of that religious edifice, immortalised by Chaucer, which was anciently the resort of Pilgrims from the remotest corners of—in short,” said Mr. Micawber, “in the immediate neighbourhood of the Cathedral.”

I replied that it was. Mr. Micawber continued talking as volubly as he could; but not, I thought, without showing, by some marks of concern in his countenance, that he was sensible of sounds in the next room, as of Mrs. Micawber washing her hands, and hurriedly opening and shutting drawers that were uneasy in their action.

“You find us, Copperfield,” said Mr. Micawber, with one eye on Traddles, “at present established, on what may be designated as a small and unassuming scale; but you are aware that I have, in the course of my career, surmounted difficulties, and conquered obstacles. You are no stranger to the fact that