Peggotty’s affliction; and I could not meditate enough upon the lesson that I read in Mrs. Gummidge, and the new experience she unfolded to me.

It was between nine and ten o’clock when, strolling in a melancholy manner through the town, I stopped at Mr. Omer’s door. Mr. Omer had taken it so much to heart, his daughter told me, that he had been very low and poorly all day, and had gone to bed without his pipe.

“A deceitful, bad-hearted girl,” said Mrs. Joram. “There was no good in her, ever!”

“Don’t say so,” I returned. “You don’t think so.”

“Yes, I do!” cried Mrs. Joram, angrily.