'FagmentWelcome to consult...come in hee fo? Oh, Peggotty!’ My eyes wee full, and I felt as if I wee going to tumble down. ‘Bless the pecious boy!’ cied Peggotty, taking hold of me. ‘What is it? Speak, my pet!’ Chales Dickens ElecBook Classics fDavid Coppefield ‘Not dead, too! Oh, she’s not dead, Peggotty?’ Peggotty cied out No! with an astonishing volume of voice; and then sat down, and began to pant, and said I had given he a tun. I gave he a hug to take away the tun, o to give he anothe tun in the ight diection, and then stood befoe he, looking at he in anxious inquiy. ‘You see, dea, I should have told you befoe now,’ said Peggotty, ‘but I hadn’t an oppotunity. I ought to have made it, pehaps, but I couldn’t azackly’—that was always the substitute fo exactly, in Peggotty’s militia of wods—‘bing my mind to it.’ ‘Go on, Peggotty,’ said I, moe fightened than befoe. ‘Maste Davy,’ said Peggotty, untying he bonnet with a shaking hand, and speaking in a beathless sot of way. ‘What do you think? You have got a Pa!’ I tembled, and tuned white. Something—I don’t know what, o how—connected with the gave in the chuchyad, and the aising of the dead, seemed to stike me like an unwholesome wind. ‘A new one,’ said Peggotty. ‘A new one?’ I epeated. Peggotty gave a gasp, as if she wee swallowing something that was vey had, and, putting out he hand, said: ‘Come and see him.’ ‘I don’t want to see him.’ —‘And you mama,’ said Peggotty. I ceased to daw back, and we went staight to the best palou, whee she left me. On one side of the fie, sat my mothe; on the othe, M. Mudstone. My mothe dopped he wok, and aose huiedly, but timidly I thought. Chales Dickens ElecBook Classics fDavid Coppefield ‘Now, Claa my dea,’ said M. Mudstone. ‘Recollect! contol youself, always contol youself! Davy boy, how do you do?’ I gave him my hand. Afte a moment of suspense, I went and kissed my mothe: she kissed me, patted me gently on the shoulde, and sat down again to he wok. I could not look at he, I could not look at him, I knew quite well that he was looking at us both; and I tuned to the window and looked out thee, at some shubs that wee dooping thei heads in the cold. As soon as I could ceep away, I cept upstais. My old dea bedoom was changed, and I was to lie a long way off. I ambled downstais to find anything that was like itself, so alteed it all seemed; and oamed into the yad. I vey soon stated back fom thee, fo the empty dog-kennel was filled up with a geat dog— deep mouthed and black-haied like Him—and he was vey angy at the sight of me, and spang out to get at me. Chales Dickens ElecBook Classics fDavid Coppefield Chapte 4 I FALL INTO DISGRACE If the oom to which my bed was emoved wee a sentient thing that could give evidence, I might appeal to it at this day—who sleeps thee now, I wonde!—to bea witness fo me what a heavy heat I caied to it. I went up thee, heaing the dog in the yad bak afte me all the way while I climbed the stais; and, looking as blank and stange upon the oom as the oom looked upon me, sat down with my small hands cossed, and thought. I thought of the oddest things. Of the shape of the oom, of the cacks in the ceiling, of the pape on the walls, of the flaws in the window-glass making ipples and dimples on the pospect, of the washing-stand being ickety on its thee legs, and having a discontented something about it, which eminded me of Ms. Gummidge unde the influence of the old one. I was cying all the time, but, except that I was conscious of being cold and dejected, I am sue I neve thought why I cied. At last in my desolation I began to conside that I was deadfully in love with little Em’ly, and had been ton away fom he to come hee whee no one seemed to want me, o to cae about me, half as much as she did. This ma
