Uncle--yonder," answered Em'ly, nodding at the boat-house.

"Yes. I mean him. He must be very good, I should think."

"Good?" said Em'ly. "If I was ever to be a lady, I'd give him a sky-blue
coat with diamond buttons, nankeen trousers, a red velvet waistcoat, a
cocked hat, a large gold watch, a silver pipe, and a box of money."

I said I had no doubt that Mr. Peggotty well deserved these treasures.

Little Em'ly had stopped and looked up at the sky while she named these
articles, as if they were a glorious vision. We went on again picking up
shells and pebbles.

"You would like to be a lady?" I said.

Em'ly looked at me, and laughed and nodded "yes."

"I should like it very much. We would all be gentlefolks together, then.
Me, and uncle, and Ham, and Mrs. Gummidge. We wouldn't mind then, when
there come stormy weather. Not for our own sakes, I mean. We would for
the poor fishermen's, to be sure, and we'd help 'em with money when they
come to any hurt."

I was quite sorry to leave these kind people and my dear little
companion, but I was glad to think I should get back to my own dear
mamma. When I reached home, however, I found a great change. My mother
was married to the dark man I did not like, whose name was Mr.
Murdstone, and he was a stern, hard man, who had no love for me, and did
not allow my mother to pet and indulge me as she had done before. Mr.
Murdstone's sister came to live with us, and as she was even more
difficult to please than her brother, and disliked boys, my life was no
longer a happy one. I tried to be good and obedient, for I knew it made
my mother very unhappy to see me punished and found fault with. I had
always had lessons with my mother, and as she was patient and gentle, I
had enjoyed learning to read, but now I had a great many very hard
lessons to do, and was so frightened and shy when Mr. and Miss Murdstone
were in the room, that I did not get on at all well, and was continually
in disgrace.

Let me remember how it used to be, and bring one morning back again.

I come into the second-best parlor after breakfast, with my books, and
an exercise-book and a slate. My mother is ready for me at her
writing-desk, but not half so ready as Mr. Murdstone in his easy-chair
by the window (though he pretends to be reading a book), or as Miss
Murdstone, sitting near my mother stringing steel beads. The very sight
of these two has such an influence over me that I begin to feel the
words I have