t it right, Mr. Barkis?« I asked, after a little hesitation.
    »Why, no,« said Mr. Barkis.
    »Not the message?«
    »The message was right enough, perhaps,« said Mr. Barkis; »but it come to an
end there.«
    Not understanding what he meant, I repeated inquisitively: »Came to an end,
Mr. Barkis?«
    »Nothing come of it,« he explained, looking at me sideways. »No answer.«
    »There was an answer expected, was there, Mr. Barkis?« said I, opening my
eyes. For this was a new light to me.
    »When a man says he's willin',« said Mr. Barkis, turning his glance slowly
on me again, »it's as much as to say, that man's a waitin' for a answer.«
    »Well, Mr. Barkis?«
    »Well,« said Mr. Barkis, carrying his eyes back to his horse's ears; »that
man's been a waitin' for a answer ever since.«
    »Have you told her so, Mr. Barkis?«
    »N - no,« growled Mr. Barkis, reflecting about it. »I ain't got no call to
go and tell her so. I never said six words to her myself. I ain't a goin' to
tell her so.«
    »Would you like me to do it, Mr. Barkis?« said I, doubtfully.
    »You might tell her, if you would,« said Mr. Barkis, with another slow look
at me, »that Barkis was a waitin' for a answer. Says you - what name is it?«
    »Her name?«
    »Ah!« said Mr. Barkis, with a nod of his head.
    »Peggotty.«
    »Chrisen name? Or nat'ral name?« said Mr. Barkis.
    »Oh, it's not her christian name. Her christian name is Clara.«
    »Is it though?« said Mr. Barkis.
    He seemed to find an immense fund of reflection in this circumstance, and
sat pondering and inwardly whistling for some time.
    »Well!« he resumed at length. »Says you, Peggotty! Barkis is a waitin' for a
answer. Says she, perhaps, Answer to what? Says you, To what I told you. What is
that? says she. Barkis is willin', says you.«
    This
