Well, Miss Trotwood

　　'Well, Miss Trotwood,' said Mr. Wickfield; for I soon found that it was he,  and that he was  a lawyer, and  steward of the  estates of a  rich gentleman of  the county; 'what wind blows you here?  Not an ill wind, I hope?'

　　'No,' replied my aunt.  'I have not come for any law.'

　　'That's right, ma'am,'  said Mr. Wickfield.   'You had better  come for anything else.' His hair was  quite white now, though  his eyebrows were still  black. He had a very agreeable  face, and, I thought,  was handsome.  There was  a certain richness in his complexion, which  I had been long accustomed,  under Peggotty's tuition, to connect with port wine; and  I fancied it was in his voice  too, and referred his growing corpulency to the same cause.  He was very cleanly dressed, in a blue coat,  striped waistcoat, and nankeen  trousers; and his fine  frilled shirt  and  cambric neckcloth  looked  unusually soft  and  white, reminding  my strolling fancy (I call to mind) of the plumage on the breast of a swan.

　　'This is my nephew,' said my aunt.

　　'Wasn't aware you had one, Miss Trotwood,' said Mr. Wickfield.

　　'My grand-nephew, that is to say,' observed my aunt.

　　'Wasn't aware you had a grand-nephew, I give you my word,' said Mr. Wickfield.

　　'I have adopted him,' said my aunt, with a wave of her hand, importing that  his knowledge and his ignorance were all one  to her, 'and I have brought him  here, to put to a school where he may be thoroughly well taught, and well treated. Now tell me where that school is, and what it is, and all about it.'

　　'Before I can advise you properly,' said Mr. Wickfield - 'the old question,  you know.  What's your motive in this?'

　　'Deuce take  the man!'  exclaimed my  aunt.  'Always  fishing for  motives, when they're on the surface!  Why, to make the child happy and useful.'