The Broken Pitcher

The Broken Pitcher
The Jewel Casket
The Kitchen Maid
The Lady of Shalott
¡¡¡¡'You're a baby!' said Peggotty; very fond of him for it, if she thought so. ¡¡¡¡'Well,' returned Mr. Peggotty, standing with his legs pretty wide apart, and rubbing his hands up and down them in his comfortable satisfaction, as he looked alternately at us and at the fire. 'I doen't know but I am. Not, you see, to look at.' ¡¡¡¡'Not azackly,' observed Peggotty. ¡¡¡¡'No,' laughed Mr. Peggotty, 'not to look at, but to - to consider on, you know. I doen't care, bless you! Now I tell you. When I go a looking
oil painting
and looking about that theer pritty house of our Em'ly's, I'm - I'm Gormed,' said Mr. Peggotty, with sudden emphasis - 'theer! I can't say more - if I doen't feel as if the littlest things was her, a'most. I takes 'em up and I put 'em down, and I touches of 'em as delicate as if they was our Em'ly. So 'tis with her little bonnets and that. I couldn't see one on 'em rough used a purpose - not fur the whole wureld. There's a babby fur you, in the form of a great Sea Porkypine!' said Mr. Peggotty, relieving his earnestness with a roar of laughter. ¡¡¡¡Peggotty and I both laughed, but not so loud.