“ ’Tis like to be long,” said Mr. Peggotty, in a low voice, “afore the boat finds new tenants. They look upon ’t, down heer, as being unfortunate now!”
“Does it belong to anybody in the neighbourhood?” I asked.
“To a mast-maker up town,” said Mr. Peggotty. “I’m a-going to give the key to him tonight.”
We looked into the other little room, and came back to Mrs. Gummidge, sitting on the locker, whom Mr. Peggotty, putting the light on the chimneypiece, requested to rise, that he might carry it outside the door before extinguishing the candle.
“Dan’l,” said Mrs. Gummidge, suddenly deserting her basket, and clinging to his arm “my dear Dan’l, the parting words I speak in this house is, I mustn’t be left behind. Doen’t ye think of leaving me behind, Dan’l! Oh, doen’t ye ever do it!”
Mr. Peggotty, taken aback, looked from Mrs. Gummidge to me, and from me to Mrs. Gummidge, as if he had been awakened from a sleep.
“Doen’t ye, dearest Dan’l, doen’t ye!” cried Mrs. Gummidge, fervently. “Take me ’long with you, Dan’l, take me ’long with you and Em’ly! I’ll be your servant, constant and trew. If there’s slaves in them parts where you’re a-going, I’ll be bound to you for one, and happy, but doen’t ye leave me behind, Dan’l, that’s a deary dear!”
“My good soul,” said Mr. Peggotty, shaking his head, “you doen’t know what a long voyage, and what a hard life ’tis!”
“Yes, I do, Dan’l! I can guess!” cried Mrs. Gummidge. “But my parting words under this roof is, I shall go into the house and die, if I am