I was walking alone in the garden, one
evening, about a fortnight afterwards. I remember that evening well. It was the
second in Mr. Micawber's week of suspense.
When the time Mr. Micawber had appointed so
mysteriously, was within four-and-twenty hours of being come, my aunt and I
consulted how we should proceed; for my aunt was very unwilling to leave Dora.
Ah! how easily I carried Dora up and down stairs, now!
We were disposed, notwithstanding Mr. Micawber's stipulation for my aunt's
attendance, to arrange that she should stay at home, and be represented by Mr.
Dick and me. In short, we had resolved to take this course, when Dora again
unsettled us by declaring that she never would forgive herself, and never would
forgive her bad boy, if my aunt remained behind, on any pretence.
