ear them.

"When, Peggotty?"

"To-morrow."

"Is that the reason why Miss Murdstone took the clothes out of my
drawers?" which she had done, though I have forgotten to mention it.

"Yes," said Peggotty. "Box."

"Shan't I see mamma?"

"Yes," said Peggotty. "Morning."

Then Peggotty fitted her mouth close to the keyhole, and spoke these
words through it with as much feeling and earnestness as a keyhole has
ever been the means of communicating, I will venture to say, shooting in
each broken little sentence in a convulsive little burst of its own.

"Davy, dear. If I ain't been azackly as intimate with you. Lately, as I
used to be. It ain't because I don't love you. Just as well and more, my
pretty poppet. It's because I thought it better for you. And for someone
else besides. Davy, my darling, are you listening? Can you hear?"

"Ye--ye--ye--yes, Peggotty!" I sobbed.

"My own!" said Peggotty, with infinite compassion. "What I want to say,
is. That you must never forget me. For I'll never forget you. And I'll
take as much care of your mamma, Davy. As I ever took of you. And I
won't leave her. The day may come when she'll be glad to lay her poor
head. On her stupid, cross old Peggotty's arm again. And I'll write to
you, my dear. Though I ain't no scholar. And I'll--I'll--" Peggotty fell
to kissing the keyhole, as she couldn't kiss me.

"Thank you, dear Peggotty!" said I. "Oh, thank you! Thank you! Will you
promise me one thing, Peggotty? Will you write and tell Mr. Peggotty
and little Em'ly and Mrs. Gummidge and Ham that I am not so bad as they
might suppose, and that I sent 'em all my love--especially to little
Em'ly? Will you, if you please, Peggotty?"

The kind soul promised, and we both of us kissed the keyhole with the
greatest affection--I patted it with my hand, I recollect, as if it had
been her honest face--and parted.

In the morning Miss Murdstone appeared as usual, and told me I was going
to school; which was not altogether such news to me as she supposed. She
also informed me that when I was dressed, I was to come down-stairs into
the parlor and have my breakfast. There I found my mother, very pale and
with red eyes; into whose arms I ran, and begged her pardon from my
suffering soul.

"Oh, Davy!" she said. "That you could hurt anyone I love! Try to be
better, pray to be better! I forgive you; but I am so grieved, Davy,
that you should have such bad passions in your heart."

Miss Murdstone was go