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.”