But Peggotty, instead of sharing in those transports, tried to check them (though very kindly), and looked confused and out of sorts.
Blunderstone Rookery would come, however, in spite of her, when the carrier's horse pleased--and did.

How well I recollect it, on a cold grey afternoon, with a dull sky, threatening rain! The door opened, and I looked, half laughing and half crying in my pleasant agitation, for my mother.

It was not she, but a strange servant.
'Why, Peggotty!' I said, ruefully, 'isn't she come home ?' 'Yes, yes, Master Davy,' said Peggotty.

'She's come home.

Wait a bit, Master Davy, and I'll--I'll tell you something.' Between her agitation, and her natural awkwardness in getting out of the cart, Peggotty was making a most extraordinary festoon of herself, but I felt too blank and strange to tell her so.