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I Fall into Disgrace

           Istartedupinbed,andputtingoutmyarmsinthedark,said:

           ‘Isthatyou,Peggotty?’

           Therewasnoimmediateanswer,butpresentlyIheardmynameagain,inatonesoverymysteriousandawful,thatIthinkIshouldhavegoneintoafit,ifithadnotoccurredtomethatitmusthavecomethroughthekeyhole.

           Igropedmywaytothedoor,andputtingmyownlipstothekeyhole,whispered:‘Isthatyou,Peggottydear?’

           ‘Yes,myownpreciousDavy,’shereplied.‘Beassoftasamouse,ortheCat’llhearus.’

           IunderstoodthistomeanMissMurdstone,andwassensibleoftheurgencyofthecase;herroombeingcloseby.

           ‘How’smama,dearPeggotty?Issheveryangrywithme?’

           IcouldhearPeggottycryingsoftlyonhersideofthekeyhole,asIwasdoingonmine,beforesheanswered.‘No.Notvery.’

           ‘Whatisgoingtobedonewithme,Peggottydear?Doyouknow?’

           ‘School.NearLondon,’wasPeggotty’sanswer.Iwasobligedtogethertorepeatit,forshespokeitthefirsttimequitedownmythroat,inconsequenceofmyhavingforgottentotakemymouthawayfromthekeyholeandputmyearthere;andthoughherwordstickledmeagooddeal,Ididn’thearthem.

           ‘When,Peggotty?’

           ‘Tomorrow.

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Roboto Lora
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