“The sense of the dear!” cried Peggotty. “What I have been thinking of, this month back! Yes, my precious; and I think I should be more independent altogether, you see; let alone my working with a better heart in my own house, than I could in anybody else’s now. I don’t know what I might be fit for, now, as a servant to a stranger. And I shall be always near my pretty’s resting-place,” said Peggotty, musing, “and be able to see it when I like; and when I lie down to rest, I may be laid not far off from my darling girl!”

We neither of us said anything for a little while.

“But I wouldn’t so much as give it another thought,” said Peggotty, cheerily, “if my Davy was anyways against it⁠—not if I had been asked in church thirty times three times over, and was wearing out the ring in my pocket.”

“Look at me, Peggotty,” I replied; “and see if I am not really glad, and don’t truly wish it!” As indeed I did, with all my heart.