of its occasioning a visitation in her back which she called "the creeps." At last she shed tears on that subject, and said again that she was "a lone lorn creetur' and everythink went contrairy with her."
"It is certainly very cold," said Peggotty. "Everybody must feel it so."
"I feel it more than other people," said Mrs. Gummidge.
So at dinner; when Mrs. Gummidge was always helped immediately after me, to whom the preference was given as a visitor of distinction. The fish were small and bony, and the potatoes were a little burnt. We all acknowledged that we felt this something of a disappointment; but Mrs. Gummidge said she felt it more than we did, and shed tears again, and made that former declaration with great bitterness.
Accordingly, when Mr. Peggotty came home about nine o'clock, this unfortunate Mrs. Gummidge was knitting in her corner in a very wretched and miserable condition. Peggotty had been working cheerfully. Ham had been patching up a great pair of water-boots; and I, with little Em'ly by my side, had been reading to them. Mrs. Gummidge had never made any other remark than a forlorn sigh, and had never raised her eyes since tea.
"Well, Mates," said Mr. Peggotty, taking his seat, "and how are you?"
We all said something, or looked something, to welcome him, except Mrs. Gummidge, who only shook her head over her knitting.
"What's amiss," said Mr. Peggotty, with a clap of his hands. "Cheer up, old Mawther!" (Mr. Peggotty meant old girl.)
Mrs. Gummidge did not appear to be able to cheer up. She took out an old black silk handkerchief and wiped her eyes; but instead of putting it in her pocket, kept it out, and wiped them again, and still kept it out, ready for use.
"What's amiss, dame!" said Mr. Peggotty.
"Nothing," returned Mrs. Gummidge. "You've come from The Willing Mind, Dan'l?"
"Why yes, I've took a short spell at The Willing Mind to-night," said Mr. Peggotty.
"I'm sorry I should drive you there," said Mrs. Gummidge.
"Drive! I don't want no driving," returned Mr. Peggotty with an honest laugh. "I only go too ready."
"Very ready," said Mrs. Gummidge, shaking her head, and wiping her eyes. "Yes, yes, very ready. I am sorry it should be along of me that you're so ready."
"Along o' you? It an't along o' you!" said Mr. Peggotty. "Don't ye believe a bit on it."
"Yes, yes, it is," cried Mrs. Gummidge. "I know what I am. I know that I'm a lone lorn creetur, and not only that everythink goes contrairy with me, but that I go contrairy with everybody. Yes, yes. I feel more than other people do, and I show it more. It's my misfortun'."
I really couldn't help thinking, as I sat taking in all this, that the misfortune extended to some other members of that family besides Mrs. Gummidge. But Mr. Peggotty made no such retort, only answering with another entreaty to Mrs. Gummidge to cheer up.
