Mr. Spenlow did not appear to know what the connection between Mr. Murdstone and myself was; which I was glad of, for I could not bear to acknowledge him, even in my own breast, remembering what I did of the history of my poor mother. Mr. Spenlow seemed to think, if he thought anything about the matter, that my aunt was the leader of the state party in our family, and that there was a rebel party commanded by somebody else⁠—so I gathered at least from what he said, while we were waiting for Mr. Tiffey to make out Peggotty’s bill of costs.