sat with it drawn on her left hand like a glove, and her needle in her right, ready to take another stitch whenever there was a blaze. I cannot conceive whose stockings they can have been that Peggotty was always darning, or where such an unfailing supply of stockings in want of darning can have come from. From my earliest infancy she seems to have been always employed in that class of needlework, and never by any chance in any other.
"I wonder," said Peggotty, who was sometimes seized with a fit of wondering on some most unexpected topic, "what's become of Davy's great-aunt?"
"Lor, Peggotty!" observed my mother, rousing herself from a reverie, "what nonsense you talk!"
"Well, but I really do wonder, ma'am," said Peggotty.
"What can have put such a person in your head?" inquired my mother. "Is there nobody else in the world to come there?"
"I don't know how it is," said Peggotty, "unless it's on account of being stupid, but my head never can pick and choose its people. They come and they go, and they don't come and they don't go, just as they like. I wonder what's become of her?"
"How absurd you are, Peggotty," returned my mother. "One would suppose you wanted a second visit from her."
"Lord forbid!" cried Peggotty.
"Well then, don't talk about such uncomfortable things, there's a good soul," said my mother. "Miss Betsey is shut up in her cottage by the sea, no doubt, and will remain there. At all events, she is not likely ever to trouble us again."
"No!" mused Peggotty. "No, that ain't likely at all.—I wonder, if she was to die, whether she'd leave Davy anything?"
"Good gracious me," Peggotty," returned my mother, "what a nonsensical woman you are! when you know that she took offence at the poor dear boy's ever being born at all!"
"I suppose she wouldn't be inclined to forgive him now," hinted Peggotty.
"Why should she be inclined to forgive him now?" said my mother, rather sharply.
"Now that he's got a brother, I mean," said Peggotty.
My mother immediately began to cry, and wondered how Peggotty dared to say such a thing.
"As if this poor little innocent in its cradle had ever done any harm to you or anybody else, you jealous thing!" said she. "You had much better go and marry Mr. Barkis, the carrier. Why don't you?"
"I should make Miss Murdstone happy, if I was to," said Peggotty.
"What a bad disposition you have, Peggotty!" returned my mother. "You are as jealous of Miss Murdstone as it is possible for a ridiculous creature to be. You want to keep the keys yourself, and give out all the things, I suppose? I shouldn't be surprised if you did. When you know that she only does it out of kindness and the best intentions! You know she does, Peggotty—you know it well."
Peggotty muttered something to the effect of "Bother the best intentions!" and something else to the effect that there was a little too much of the best intentions going on.
