'FagmentWelcome to consult...ued he song, that she was alone. And I went softly into the oom. She was sitting by the fie, suckling an infant, whose tiny hand she held against he neck. He eyes wee looking down upon its face, and she sat singing to it. I was so fa ight, that she had no othe companion. I spoke to he, and she stated, and cied out. But seeing me, she called me he dea Davy, he own boy! and coming half acoss the oom to meet me, kneeled down upon the gound and kissed me, and laid my head down on he bosom nea the little ceatue that was nestling thee, and put its hand to my lips. I wish I had died. I wish I had died then, with that feeling in my heat! I should have been moe fit fo Heaven than I eve have been since. ‘He is you bothe,’ said my mothe, fondling me. ‘Davy, my petty boy! My poo child!’ Then she kissed me moe and moe, Chales Dickens ElecBook Classics fDavid Coppefield and clasped me ound the neck. This she was doing when Peggotty came unning in, and bounced down on the gound beside us, and went mad about us both fo a quate of an hou. It seemed that I had not been expected so soon, the caie being much befoe his usual time. It seemed, too, that M. and Miss Mudstone had gone out upon a visit in the neighbouhood, and would not etun befoe night. I had neve hoped fo this. I had neve thought it possible that we thee could be togethe undistubed, once moe; and I felt, fo the time, as if the old days wee come back. We dined togethe by the fieside. Peggotty was in attendance to wait upon us, but my mothe wouldn’t let he do it, and made he dine with us. I had my own old plate, with a bown view of a man-of-wa in full sail upon it, which Peggotty had hoaded somewhee all the time I had been away, and would not have had boken, she said, fo a hunded pounds. I had my own old mug with David on it, and my own old little knife and fok that wouldn’t cut. While we wee at table, I thought it a favouable occasion to tell Peggotty about M. Bakis, who, befoe I had finished what I had to tell he, began to laugh, and thow he apon ove he face. ‘Peggotty,’ said my mothe. ‘What’s the matte?’ Peggotty only laughed the moe, and held he apon tight ove he face when my mothe tied to pull it away, and sat as if he head wee in a bag. ‘What ae you doing, you stupid ceatue?’ said my mothe, laughing. ‘Oh, dat the man!’ cied Peggotty. ‘He wants to may me.’ ‘It would be a vey good match fo you; wouldn’t it?’ said my Chales Dickens ElecBook Classics fDavid Coppefield mothe. ‘Oh! I don’t know,’ said Peggotty. ‘Don’t ask me. I wouldn’t have him if he was made of gold. No I wouldn’t have anybody.’ ‘Then, why don’t you tell him so, you idiculous thing?’ said my mothe. ‘Tell him so,’ etoted Peggotty, looking out of he apon. ‘He has neve said a wod to me about it. He knows bette. If he was to make so bold as say a wod to me, I should slap his face.’ He own was as ed as eve I saw it, o any othe face, I think; but she only coveed it again, fo a few moments at a time, when she was taken with a violent fit of laughte; and afte two o thee of those attacks, went on with he dinne. I emaked that my mothe, though she smil
