How can you reconcile it to your conscience, I wonder, to prejudice my own boy against me, or against anybody who is dear to me?
What do you mean by it, Peggotty ?' Poor Peggotty lifted up her hands and eyes, and only answered, in a sort of paraphrase of the grace I usually repeated after dinner, 'Lord forgive you, Mrs.Copperfield, and for what you have said this minute, may you never be truly sorry!' 'It's enough to distract me,' cried my mother.

'In my honeymoon, too, when my most inveterate enemy might relent, one would think, and not envy me a little peace of mind and happiness.

Davy, you naughty boy! Peggotty, you savage creature! Oh, dear me!' cried my mother, turning from one of us to the other, in her pettish wilful manner, 'what a troublesome world this is, when one has the most right to expect it to be as agreeable as possible!' I felt the touch of a hand that I knew was neither hers nor Peggotty's, and slipped to my feet at the bed-side.

It was Mr.Murdstone's hand, and he kept it on my arm as he said: 'What's this?
Clara, my love, have you forgotten ?--Firmness, my dear!' 'I am very sorry, Edward,' said my mother.

'I meant to be very good, but I am so uncomfortable.' 'Indeed!' he answered.