Peggotty to understand that she was as jolly as I could wish, and that she desired her compliments - which was a polite fiction on my part.
′I′m much obleeged to her, I′m sure,′ said Mr. Peggotty. ′Well, sir, if you can make out here, fur a fortnut, ′long wi′ her,′ nodding at his sister, ′and Ham, and little Em′ly, we shall be proud of your company.′
Having done the honours of his house in this hospitable manner, Mr. Peggotty went out to wash himself in a kettleful of hot water, remarking that ′cold would never get his muck off′. He soon returned, greatly improved in appearance; but so rubicund, that I couldn′t help thinking his face had this in common with the lobsters, crabs, and crawfish, - that it went into the hot water very black, and came out very red.
After tea, when the door was shut and all was made snug (the nights being cold and misty now), it seemed to me the most delicious retreat that the imagination of man could conceive. To hear the wind getting up out at sea, to know that the fog was creeping over the desolate flat outside, and to look at the fire, and think that there was no house near but this one, and this one a boat, was like enchantment. Little Em′ly had overcome her shyness, and was sitting by my side upon the lowest and least of the lockers, which was just large enough for us two, and just fitted into the chimney corner. Mrs. Peggotty with the white apron, was knitting on the opposite side of the fire. Peggotty at her needlework was as much at home with St. Paul′s and the bit of wax-candle, as if they had never known any other roof. Ham, who had been giving me my first lesson in all-fours, was trying to recollect a scheme of telling fortunes with the dirty cards, and was printing off fishy impressions of his thumb on all the cards he turned. Mr. Peggotty was smoking his pipe. I felt it was a time for conversation and confidence.
′Mr. Peggotty!′ says I.
′Sir,′ says he.
′Did you give your son the name of Ham, because you lived in a sort of ark?′
Mr. Peggotty seemed to think it a deep idea, but answered:
′No, sir. I never giv him no name.′
′Who gave him that name, then?′ said I, putting question number two of the catechism to Mr. Peggotty.
′Why, sir, his father giv it him,′ said Mr. Peggotty.
′I thought you were his father!′
′My brother Joe was his father,′ said Mr. Peggotty.
′Dead, Mr. Peggotty?′ I hinted, after a respectful pause.
′Drowndead,′ said Mr. Peggotty.
I was very much surprised that Mr. Peggotty was not Ham′s father, and began to wonder whether I was mistaken about his relationship to anybody else there. I was so curious to know, that I made up my mind to have it out with Mr. Peggotty.
′Little Em′ly,′ I said, glancing at her. ′She is your daughter, isn′t she, Mr. Peggotty?′
′No, sir. My brother-in-law, Tom, was her father.′
I couldn′t help it. ′- Dead, Mr. Peggotty?′ I hinted, after another respectful silence.
′Drowndead,′ said Mr. Peggotty.
I felt the difficulty of resuming the subject, but had not got to the bottom of it yet, and must get to the bottom somehow. So I said:
′Haven′t you ANY children, Mr. Peggotty?′
′No, master,′ he answered with a short laugh. ′I′m a bacheldore.′
′A bachelor!′ I said, astonished. ′Why, who′s that, Mr. Peggotty?′ pointing to the person in the apron who was knitting.
′That′s Missis Gummidge,′ said Mr. Peggotty.
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