pen and ink and paper, to write to Peggotty. He not only brought it immediately, but was good enough to look over me while I wrote the letter. When I had finished it, he asked me where I was going to school.
I said, ‘Near London,’ which was all I knew.
‘Oh!
my eye!’ he said, looking very low-spirited, ‘I am sorry for that.’
‘Why?’ I asked him.
‘Oh, Lord!’ he said, shaking his head, ‘that’s the school where they broke the boy’s ribs — two ribs — a little boy he was. I should say he was — let me see — how old are you, about?’
I told him between eight and nine.