0 David Copperfield
‘The boy will be idle there,’ said Miss Murdstone, looking
into a pickle-jar, ‘and idleness is the root of all evil. But, to
be sure, he would be idle here - or anywhere, in my opin-
ion.’
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 bet-
ter 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 per-
mission was given, and was never retracted; for when the
month was out, Peggotty and I were ready to depart.
Mr. Barkis came into the house for Peggotty’s boxes. I
had never known him to pass the garden-gate before, but
on this occasion he came into the house. And he gave me a
look as he shouldered the largest box and went out, which I
thought had meaning in it, if meaning could ever be said to
find its way into Mr. Barkis’s visage.
Peggotty was naturally in low spirits at leaving what had
been her home so many years, and where the two strong at-
tachments of her life - for my mother and myself - had been
formed. She had been walking in the churchyard, too, very
early; and she got into the cart, and sat in it with her hand-