‘Yes；’　said　Mr。　Spenlow；　‘I　understand　there’s　money。　Beauty
  too；　I　am　told。’
  ‘Indeed！　Is　his　new　wife　young？’
  ‘Just　of　age；’　said　Mr。　Spenlow。　‘So　lately；　that　I　should　think
  they　had　been　waiting　for　that。’
  ‘Lord　deliver　her！’　said　Peggotty。　So　very　emphatically　and
  unexpectedly；　that　we　were　all　three　discomposed；　until　Tiffey
  came　in　with　the　bill。
  Old　Tiffey　soon　appeared；　however；　and　handed　it　to　Mr。
  Spenlow；　to　look　over。　Mr。　Spenlow；　settling　his　chin　in　his　cravat
  and　rubbing　it　softly；　went　over　the　items　with　a　deprecatory　air—
  as　if　it　were　all　Jorkins’s　doing—and　handed　it　back　to　Tiffey　with
  a　bland　sigh。
  ‘Yes；’　he　said。　‘That’s　right。　Quite　right。　I　should　have　been
  extremely　happy；　Copperfield；　to　have　limited　these　charges　to　the
  actual　expenditure　out　of　pocket；　but　it　is　an　irksome　incident　in
  my　professional　life；　that　I　am　not　at　liberty　to　consult　my　own
  wishes。　I　have　a　partner—Mr。　Jorkins。’
  As　he　said　this　with　a　gentle　melancholy；　which　was　the　next
  thing　to　making　no　charge　at　all；　I　expressed　my
  acknowledgements　on　Peggotty’s　behalf；　and　paid　Tiffey　in
  banknotes。　Peggotty　then　retired　to　her　lodging；　and　Mr。　Spenlow
  and　I　went　into　Court；　where　we　had　a　divorce…suit　coming　on；
  under　an　ingenious　little　statute　（repealed　now；　I　believe；　but　in
  virtue　of　which　I　have　seen　several　marriages　annulled）；　of　which
  the　merits　were　these。　The　husband；　whose　name　was　Thomas
  Benjamin；　had　taken　out　his　marriage　licence　as　Thomas　only；
  suppressing　the　Benjamin；　in　case　he　should　not　find　himself　as
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  comfortable　as　he　expected。　Not　finding　himself　as　comfortable　as
  he　expected；　or　being　a　little　fatigued　with　his　wife；　poor　fellow；　he
  now　came　forward；　by　a　friend；　after　being　married　a　year　or　two；
  and　declared　that　his　name　was　Thomas　Benjamin；　and　therefore
  he　was　not　married　at　all。　Which　the　Court　confirmed；　to　his　great
  satisfaction。
  I　must　say　that　I　had　my　doubts　about　the　strict　justice　of　this；
  and　was　not　even　frightened　out　of　them　by　the　bushel　of　wheat
  which　reconciles　all　anomalies。　But　Mr。　Spenlow　argued　the
  matter　with　me。　He　said；　Look　at　the　world；　there　was　good　and
  evil　in　that；　look　at　the　ecclesiastical　law；　there　was　good　and　evil
  in　that。　It　was　all　part　of　a　system。　Very　good。　There　you　were！
  I　had　not　the　hardihood　to　suggest　to　Dora’s　father　that　possibly
  we　might　even　improve　the　world　a　little；　if　we　got　up　early　in　the
  morning；　and　took　off　our　coats　to　the　work；　but　I　confessed　that　I
  thought　we　might　improve　the　Commons。　Mr。　Spenlow　replied
  that　he　would　particularly　advise　me　to　dismiss　that　idea　from　my
  mind；　as　not　being　worthy　of　my　gentlemanly　character；　but　that
  he　would　be　glad　to　hear　from　me　of　what　improvement　I　thought
  the　Commons　susceptible？
  Taking　that　part　of　the　Commons　which　happened　to　be　nearest
  to　us—for　our　man　was　unmarried　by　this　time；　and　we　were　out
  of　Court；　and　strolling　past　the　Prerogative　Office—I　submitted
  that　I　thought　the　Prerogative　Office　rather　a　queerly　managed
  institution。　Mr。　Spenlow　inquired　in　what　respect？　I　replied；　with
  all　due　deference　to　his　experience　（but　with　more　deference；　I　am
  afraid；　to　his　being　Dora’s　father）；　that　perhaps　it　was　a　little
  nonsensical　that　the　Registry　of　that　Court；　containing　the　original
  wills　of　all　persons　leaving　effects　within　the　immense　province　of
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  Canterbury；　for　three　whole　centuries；　should　be　an　accidental
  building；　never　designed　for　the　purpose；　leased　by　the　registrars
  for　their　Own　private　emolument；　unsafe；　not　even　ascertained　to
  be　fire…proof；　choked　with　the　important　documents　it　held；　and
  positively；　from　the　roof　to　the　basement；　a　mercenary　speculation
  of　the　registrars；　who　took　great　fees　from　the　public；　and
  crammed　the　public’s　wills　away　anyhow　and　anywhere；　having　no
  other　object　than　to　get　rid　of　them　cheaply。　That；　perhaps；　it　was
  a　little　unreasonable　that　these　registrars　in　the　receipt　of　profits
  amounting　to　eight　or　nine　thousand　pounds　a　year　（to　say　nothing
  of　the　profits　of　the　deputy　registrars；　and　clerks　of　seats）；　should
  not　be　obliged　to　spend　a　little　of　that　money；　in　finding　a
  reasonably　safe　place　for　the　important　documents　which　all
  classes　of　people　were　compelled　to　hand　over　to　them；　whether
  they　would　or　no。　That；　perhaps；　it　was　a　little　unjust；　that　all　the
  great　offices　in　this　great　office　should　be　magnificent　sinecures；
  while　the　unfortunate　working…clerks　in　the　cold　dark　room
  upstairs　were　the　worst　rewarded；　and　the　least　considered　men；
  doing　important　services；　in　London。　That　perhaps　it　was　a　little
  indecent　that　the　principal　registrar　of　all；　whose　duty　it　was　to
  find　the　public；　constantly　resorting　to　this　place；　all　needful
  accommodation；　should　be　an　enormous　sinecurist　in　virtue　of
  that　post　（and　might　be；　besides；　a　clergyman；　a　pluralist；　the
  holder　of　a　staff　in　a　cathedral；　and　what　not）；—while　the　public
  was　put　to　the　inconvenience　of　which　we　had　a　specimen　every
  afternoon　when　the　office　was　busy；　and　which　we　knew　to　be
  quite　monstrous。　That；　perhaps；　in　short；　this　Prerogative　Office　of
  the　diocese　of　Canterbury　was　altogether　such　a　pestilent　job；　and
  such　a　pernicious　absurdity；　that　but　for　its　being　squeezed　away
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  in　a　corner　of　St。　Paul’s　Churchyard；　which　few　people　knew；　it
  must　have　been　turned　completely　inside　out；　and　upside　down；
  long　ago。
  Mr。　Spenlow　smiled　as　I　became　modestly　warm　on　the　subject；
  and　then　argued　this　question　with　me　as　he　had　argued　the　other。
  He　said；　what　was　it　after　all？　It　was　a　question　of　feeling。　If　the
  public　felt　that　their　wills　were　in　safe　keeping；　and　took　it　for
  granted　that　the　office　was　not　to　be　made　better；　who　was　the
  worse　for　it？　Nobody。　Who　was　the　better　for　it？　All　the
  Sinecurists。　Very　well。　Then　the　good　predominated。　It　might　not
  be　a　perfect　system；　nothing　was　perfect；　but　what　he　objected　to；
  was；　the　insertion　of　the　wedge。　Under　the　Prerogative　Office；　the
  country　had　been　glorious。　Insert　the　wedge　into　the　Prerogative
  Office；　and　the　country　would　cease　to　be　glorious。　He　considered
  it　the　principle　of　a　gentleman　to　take　things　as　he　found　them；
  and　he　had　no　doubt　the　Prerogative　Office　would　last　our　time。　I
  deferred　to　his　opinion；　though　I　had　great　doubts　of　it　myself。　I
  find　he　was　right；　however；　for　it　has　not　only　lasted　to　the　present
  moment；　but　has　done　so　in　the　teeth　of　a　great　parliamentary
  report　made　（not　too　willingly）　eighteen　years　ago；　when　all　these
  objections　of　mine　were　set　forth　in　detail；　and　when　the　existing
  stowage　for　wills　was　described　as　equal　to　the　accumulation　of
  only　two　years　and　a　half　more。　What　they　have　done　with　them
  since；　whether　they　have　lost　many；　or　whether　they　sell　any；　now
  and　then；　to　the　butter　shops；　I　don’t　know。　I　am　glad　mine　is　not
  there；　and　I　hope　it　may　not　go　there；　yet　awhile。
  I　have　set　all　this　down；　in　my　present　blissful　chapter；　because
  here　it　comes　into　its　natural　place。　Mr。　Spenlow　and　I　falling　into
  this　conversation；　prolonged　it　and　our　saunter　to　and　fro；　until　we
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  diverged　into　general　topics。　And　so　it　came　about；　in　the　end；　that
  Mr。　Spenlow　told　me　this　day　week　was　Dora’s　birthday；　and　he
  would　be　glad　if　I　would　come　down　and　join　a　little　picnic　on　the
  occasion。　I　went　out　of　my　senses　immediately；　became　a　mere
  driveller　next　day；　on　receipt　of　a　little　lace…edged　sheet　of　notepaper；　‘Favoured　by　papa。　To　remind’；　and　passed　the　intervening
  period　in　a　state　of　dotage。
  I　think　I　committed　every　possible　absurdity　in　the　way　of
  preparation　for　this　blessed　event。　I　turn　hot　when　I　remember　the
  cravat　I　bought。　My　boots　might　be　placed　in　any　collection　of
  instruments　of　torture。　I　provided；　and　sent　down　by　the　Norwood
  coach　the　night　before；　a　delicate　little　hamper；　amounting　in
  itself；　I　thought；　almost　to　a　declaration。　There　were　crackers　in　it
  with　the　tenderest　mottoes　that　could　be　got　for　money。　At　six　in
  the　morning；　I　was　in　Covent　Garden　Market；　buying　a　bouquet
  for　Dora。　At　ten　I　was　on　horseback　（I　hired　a　gallant　grey；　for　the
  occasion）；　with　the　bouquet　in　my　hat；　to　keep　it　fresh；　trotting
  down　to　Norwood。
  I　suppose　that　when　I　saw　Dora　in　the　garden　and　pretended
  not　to　see　her；　and　rode　past　the　house　pretending　to　be　anxiously
  looking　for　it；　I　committed　two　small　fooleries　which　other　young
  gentlemen　in　my　circumstances　might　have　committed—because
  they　came　so　very　natural　to　me。　But　oh！　when　I　did　find　the
  house；　and　did　dismount　at　the　garden…gate；　and　drag　those　stonyhearted　boots　across　the　lawn　to　Dora　sitting　on　a　garden…seat
  under　a　lilac　tree；　what　a　spectacle　she　was；　upon　that　beautiful
  morning；　among　the　butterflies；　in　a　white　chip　bonnet　and　a　dress
  of　celesti