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'Something's the matter, I'm sure. Where's mama?' ¡¡¡¡'Where's mama, Master Davy?' repeated Peggotty. ¡¡¡¡'Yes. Why hasn't she come out to the gate, and what have we come in here for? Oh, Peggotty!' My eyes were full, and I felt as if I were going to tumble down. ¡¡¡¡'Bless the precious boy!' cried Peggotty, taking hold of me. 'What is it? Speak, my pet!' ¡¡¡¡'Not dead, too! Oh, she's not dead, Peggotty?' ¡¡¡¡Peggotty cried out No! with an astonishing volume of voice; and then sat down, and began to pant, and said I had given her a turn. ¡¡¡¡I gave her a hug to
oil painting take away the turn, or to give her another turn in the right direction, and then stood before her, looking at her in anxious inquiry. ¡¡¡¡'You see, dear, I should have told you before now,' said Peggotty, 'but I hadn't an opportunity. I ought to have made it, perhaps, but I couldn't azackly' - that was always the substitute for exactly, in Peggotty's militia of words - 'bring my mind to it.' ¡¡¡¡'Go on, Peggotty,' said I, more frightened than before.