On the last night of my restraint, I was awakened by hearing my own name spoken in a whisper.

I started up in bed, and putting out my arms in the dark, said: 'Is that you, Peggotty ?' There was no immediate answer, but presently I heard my name again, in a tone so very mysterious and awful, that I think I should have gone into a fit, if it had not occurred to me that it must have come through the keyhole.
I groped my way to the door, and putting my own lips to the keyhole, whispered: 'Is that you, Peggotty dear ?' 'Yes, my own precious Davy,' she replied.

'Be as soft as a mouse, or the Cat'll hear us.' I understood this to mean Miss Murdstone, and was sensible of the urgency of the case; her room being close by.
'How's mama, dear Peggotty?
Is she very angry with me ?' I could hear Peggotty crying softly on her side of the keyhole, as I was doing on mine, before she answered.

'No.

Not very.' 'What is going to be done with me, Peggotty dear?
Do you know ?' 'School.