“Em’ly,” he continued, “will keep along with me⁠—poor child, she’s sore in need of peace and rest!⁠—until such time as we goes upon our voyage. She’ll work at them clothes, as must be made; and I hope her troubles will begin to seem longer ago than they was, wen she finds herself once more by her rough but loving uncle.”

My aunt nodded confirmation of this hope, and imparted great satisfaction to Mr. Peggotty.

“Theer’s one thing furder, Mas’r Davy,” said he, putting his hand in his breast pocket, and gravely taking out the little paper bundle I had seen before, which he unrolled on the table. “Theer’s these here banknotes⁠—fifty pound, and ten. To them I wish to add the money as she come away with. I’ve asked her about that (but not saying why), and have added of it up. I an’t a scholar. Would you be so kind as see how ’tis?”

He handed me, apologetically for his scholarship, a piece of paper, and observed me while I looked it over. It was quite right.