“Good night!” said I.
“Come! Let us be the best friends in the world!” said the gentleman, laughing. “Shake hands!”
My right hand was in my mother’s left, so I gave him the other.
“Why that’s the wrong hand, Davy!” laughed the gentleman.
My mother drew my right hand forward, but I was resolved, for my former reason, not to give it him, and I did not. I gave him the other, and he shook it heartily, and said I was a brave fellow, and went away.
At this minute I see him turn round in the garden, and give us a last look with his ill-omened black eyes, before the door was shut.
Peggotty, who had not said a word or moved a finger, secured the fastenings instantly, and we all went into the parlor. My mother, contrary to her usual habit, instead of coming to the elbow-chair by the fire, remained at the other end of the room, and sat singing to herself.
“—Hope you have had a pleasant evening, ma’am,” said Peggotty, standing as stiff as a barrel in the centre of the room, with a candlestick in her hand.
“Much obliged to you, Peggotty,” returned my mother, in a cheerful voice, “I have had a very pleasant evening.”
“A stranger or so makes an agreeable change,” suggested Peggotty.