Classics Retold

 I had led this life about a month, when the man with wooden leg began to stump about whith a mop and a bucket of water, from which I inferred that preparations were making to receive Mr Creakle and his family.  I was not mistaken; the mop came into the classroom, Mr Mell and me were always in the way of two or three young women whom I saw rarely before.  Our room was always with dust, and I sneezed again and again that Salem House appeared a snuff box. One day I was informed by Mr Mell, that Mr Creakle would be home in the evening.  Before bed-time I was fetched by the man with wooden leg before Mr Creakle. Creakle's part of house was more comfortable, and he had a little pleasant garden.  It lay beyond the dusty desert-like play ground.  I went trembling, along the comfortable passage to the presence of Mr Creakle.  Mr Creakle was a stout gentleman, with a bunch of watch-chains and seals.  He was in an arm-chair, a tumbler and bottle beside him....

We might have gone about half a mile, and my pocket hand-kerchief was quite wet through, when the carrier stopped short.  Looking out to ascertain for what, I saw, to my amazement, Peggotty burst from a hedge and climb into the cart.  She took me in both of her arms and squeezed me to her stays until the pressure on my nose was extremely painful, though I never thought of that till afterwards when I found it very tender.  Not a single word did Peggotty speak.  Releasing one of her arms, she put it down in her pocket to the elbow, and brought out some paper bags of cakes which she crammed into my pockets, and a purse which she put into my hand, but not one word did she say.  After another and final squeeze with both arms; she got down from the cart and ran away, and, my belief is and has always been without a solitary button on her gown.  I picked up one, of several of that rolling about, and treasured it as a keepsake for a long time.  The carrier look...

If the room to which my bed was removed were a sentiment thing that could give evidence, I might appeal to it this day to bear witness for me what a heavy heart I carried to it. I wonder who sleeps there now!  I went up there, hearing the dog in the yard bark after me all the way while I climbed the stairs; and, looking as strange and blank upon room as the room looked upon me, sat down with my small hands crossed, and thought. I thought of the oddest things.  Of the shape of the room, of the cracks in the ceiling, of the paper on the walls, of the flaws in the window glass making ripples and dimples on the prospect, of the washing stand being rickety on its three legs, and having discontented something about it, which reminded me of Mrs Gummidge under the influence of the old one.  I was crying all the time, but, except that I was cautious of being cold and dejected, I am sure I never thought why I cried.  At last in my desolation I began to consider that I am dread...