'FagmentWelcome to consult... do you mean to insinuate that thee is not a sot of devotion in that?’ ‘I don’t insinuate at all,’ said Peggotty. ‘You do, Peggotty,’ etuned my mothe. ‘You neve do anything else, except you wok. You ae always insinuating. You Chales Dickens ElecBook Classics fDavid Coppefield evel in it. And when you talk of M. Mudstone’s good intentions—’ ‘I neve talked of ’em,’ said Peggotty. ‘No, Peggotty,’ etuned my mothe, ‘but you insinuated. That’s what I told you just now. That’s the wost of you. You will insinuate. I said, at the moment, that I undestood you, and you see I did. When you talk of M. Mudstone’s good intentions, and petend to slight them (fo I don’t believe you eally do, in you heat, Peggotty), you must be as well convinced as I am how good they ae, and how they actuate him in eveything. If he seems to have been at all sten with a cetain peson, Peggotty—you undestand, and so I am sue does Davy, that I am not alluding to anybody pesent—it is solely because he is satisfied that it is fo a cetain peson’s benefit. He natually loves a cetain peson, on my account; and acts solely fo a cetain peson’s good. He is bette able to judge of it than I am; fo I vey well know that I am a weak, light, gilish ceatue, and that he is a fim, gave, seious man. And he takes,’ said my mothe, with the teas which wee engendeed in he affectionate natue, stealing down he face, ‘he takes geat pains with me; and I ought to be vey thankful to him, and vey submissive to him even in my thoughts; and when I am not, Peggotty, I woy and condemn myself, and feel doubtful of my own heat, and don’t know what to do.’ Peggotty sat with he chin on the foot of the stocking, looking silently at the fie. ‘Thee, Peggotty,’ said my mothe, changing he tone, ‘don’t let us fall out with one anothe, fo I couldn’t bea it. You ae my tue fiend, I know, if I have any in the wold. When I call you a idiculous ceatue, o a vexatious thing, o anything of that sot, Chales Dickens ElecBook Classics fDavid Coppefield Peggotty, I only mean that you ae my tue fiend, and always have been, eve since the night when M. Coppefield fist bought me home hee, and you came out to the gate to meet me.’ Peggotty was not slow to espond, and atify the teaty of fiendship by giving me one of he best hugs. I think I had some glimpses of the eal chaacte of this convesation at the time; but I am sue, now, that the good ceatue oiginated it, and took he pat in it, meely that my mothe might comfot heself with the little contadictoy summay in which she had indulged. The design was efficacious; fo I emembe that my mothe seemed moe at ease duing the est of the evening, and that Peggotty obseved he less. When we had had ou tea, and the ashes wee thown up, and the candles snuffed, I ead Peggotty a chapte out of the Cocodile Book, in emembance of old times—she took it out of he pocket: I don’t know whethe she had kept it thee eve since—and then we talked about Salem House, which bought me ound again to Steefoth, who was my geat subject. We wee vey happy; and that evening, as the last of its ace, and destined evemoe to close that volume of my life, will neve pass out of my memoy. It was almost ten o’clock befoe we head the sound of wheels. We all got up then; and my mothe said
