Chapter-6
On my way to class one Monday morning, I met Uriah in the street. He invited me to come to his home to meet his mother and share tea with them.
I said I wanted to ask Mr Wickfield’s permission, and if he approved, I’d meet Uriah in the law office at six o’ clock.
“Mother will be proud, indeed,” Uriah said, “Or she would be proud, if it wasn’t sinful, you understand.”
At six o’ clock, we left Mr Wickfield’s and walked the several blocks to the Heep’ residence. Mrs Heep met us in a low-ceiling, old-fashioned room, half parlour and half kitchen, that opened directly off the street and, in fact, was connected to the street by a doorway wider by half than any such entry I’d ever seen. Uriah pushed the large door all the way back on its hinges, and left it full open.
Uriah was the perfect image of his mother, only taller. And they shared the same view of themselves and their existence: everything was humble and much too insignificant to be worth the notice of another living soul.
“This is a day to be remembered, my Uriah I am sure,” said Mrs Heep, pouring cups of tea all around, “when the fine Master Copperfield pays us a visit.”
I was embarrassed by the compliments but took them not so much for their truth as for their intention to make me feel welcome.
“My Uriah has looked forward to this day for a long while,” she assured me, “He feared that our humbleness stood in the way, and I joined in those fears myself. Humble we are, humble we have been, humble we shall always be,” said Mrs Heep.
We drank our tea and spoke causally of Canterbury and of the unusually cool evenings we’d been having. Then they began to talk about aunts, and I told them about mine; and about fathers and mothers, and I told them about mine; and Mrs Heep spoke about stepfathers, and I began to tell her about mine, but stopped because my aunt had advised me to keep silent about the Murdstones.
A tender young tooth would have had no more defence against a pair of dentists than I had against Uriah and his mother. They did just what they liked with me, worming out bits of information that I had no desire to tell. The skill with which one followed up whatever the other said was a touch of art. And I was not prepared to resist it.
I had become uncomfortable with my visit and rose to end it, walking to the gaping doorway and preparing to say my farewells to the Heeps, when a man stepped over from the street, exclaiming loudly, “Copperfield, can it be you?”
It was Mr Micawber.
“Copperfield, this is extraordinary!” he cried, “I was just telling myself that something would turn up, and here you are, out of the blue!”
There was no way to avoid introducing the Heeps and Mr Micawber.
“Any friend of David’s has a claim on my heart, too,” he told Uriah and his mother.
“We are too humble, sir, for your attentions,” said Mrs Heep.
I was anxious to take my leave from the Heeps and so I suggested we go at once to see Mrs Micawber. We walked a few streets over to a boardinghouse and went upstairs. Mrs Micawber was amazed but glad to see me, and we sat down to talk while her husband left to check the job notices in that day’s newspaper.
“I thought you were in Plymouth,” I said.
“We were but the local influence of my family was of no use in getting any employment for my husband,” she told me, “In fact, our reception was quite cool.”
She said they’d had no choice but to sell what they owned—even the prized walking stick- to pay for transport back to London, and seek some way of making a living there again. They would be leaving Canterbury at week’s end.
I felt so very badly for the Micawbers, and said I wished I could help in any way, but she assured me that my friendship was help enough, and Mr Micawber, returning with no employment in sight, told me he knew something would turn up soon and I shouldn’t worry about them.
It was early the next morning when I saw the disturbing sight of Mr Micawber and Uriah Heep walking together. And when I asked him about it several days later, Micawber was glad to say, “Your friend Heep is a young fellow who will go very far in the study of law, David. If I had known him at the time when my difficulties came to a crisis, things would have been a great deal better managed than they were.”
He told me he’d been pleased to share a drink with Uriah and his mother the evening after I had introduced them, and that a lovely time was had by all. I didn’t want to ask if the Heeps had questioned him about me, or if he had offered any information, but alarms rang in my head at the thought of those two dealing with a tongue loosened by brandy. The Heeps seemed set on gathering information for some unhealthy purpose.