Pip, Is She a Commoner?

When I ran home from the churchyard, the forage was shut up and Joe was sitting alone in the kitchen. Mrs. Joe has been out a dozen times looking for you, Pip, and she's out now making it a baker's dozen. And what's worse, he's got tickler with her. At this dismal intelligence, I twisted the only button on my waistcoat round and round and looked in great depression at the fire. Tickler with a wax ended piece of cane, worn smooth by collision with my tickled frame. She saw it down, said Joe, and she got up, and she made a grab at tickler, and she rampaged out. That