Peggotty had an angry answer ready, I could see; but she swallowed it for my sake, and remained silent.

“Humph!” said Miss Murdstone, still keeping her eye on the pickles; “it is of more importance than anything else⁠—it is of paramount importance⁠—that my brother should not be disturbed or made uncomfortable. I suppose I had better say yes.”

I thanked her, without making any demonstration of joy, lest it should induce her to withdraw her assent. Nor could I help thinking this a prudent course, since she looked at me out of the pickle-jar, with as great an access of sourness as if her black eyes had absorbed its contents. However, the permission was given, and was never retracted; for when the month was out, Peggotty and I were ready to depart.