“You might, old chap,” said Joe.  “And she might credit it.  Similarly she mightn’t.”

Joe felt, as I did, that he had made a point there, and he pulled hard at his pipe to keep himself from weakening it by repetition.

“You see, Pip,” Joe pursued, as soon as he was past that danger, “Miss Havisham done the handsome thing by you.  When Miss Havisham done the handsome thing by you, she called me back to say to me as that were all.”

“Yes, Joe.  I heard her.”

“All,” Joe repeated, very emphatically.

“Yes, Joe.  I tell you, I heard her.”

“Which I meantersay, Pip, it might be that her meaning were — Make a end on it! — As you was! — Me to the North, and you to the South! - Keep in sunders!”

I had thought of that too, and it was very far from comforting to me to find that he had thought of it; for it seemed to render it more probable.

“But, Joe.”

“Yes, old chap.”

“Here am I, getting on in the first year of my time, and, since the day of my being bound, I have never thanked Miss Havisham, or asked after her, or shown that I remember her.”

“That’s true, Pip; and unless you was to turn her out a set of shoes all four round — and which I meantersay as even a set of shoes all four round might not be acceptable as a present, in a total wacancy of hoofs—­”

“I don’t mean that sort of remembrance, Joe; I don’t mean a present.”

But Joe had got the idea of a present in his head and must harp upon it.  “Or even,” said he, “if you was helped to knocking her up a new chain for the front door — or say a gross or two of shark-headed screws for general use — or some light fancy article, such as a toasting-fork when she took her muffins — or a gridiron when she took a sprat or such like—­”

“I don’t mean any present at all, Joe,” I interposed.

“Well,” said Joe, still harping on it as though I had particularly pressed it, “if I was yourself, Pip, I wouldn’t.  No, I would not.  For what’s a door-chain when she’s got one always up?  And shark-headers is open to misrepresentations.  And if it was a toasting-fork, you’d go into brass and do yourself no credit.  And the oncommonest workman can’t show himself oncommon in a gridiron — for a gridiron is a gridiron,” said Joe, steadfastly impressing it upon me, as if he were endeavouring to rouse me from a fixed delusion, “and you may haim at what you like, but a gridiron it will come out, either by your leave or again your leave, and you can’t help yourself—­”

“My dear Joe,” I cried, in desperation, taking hold of his coat, “don’t go on in that way.  I never thought of making Miss Havisham any present.”

“No, Pip,” Joe assented, as if he had been contending for that, all along; “and what I say to you is, you are right, Pip.”

“Yes, Joe; but what I wanted to say, was, that as we are rather slack just now, if you would give me a half-holiday to-morrow, I think I would go up-town and make a call on Miss Est — Havisham.”