(13) CHARLES DICKENS: DAVID COPPERFIELD: CHAPTER 13: THE SEQUEL OF MY RESOLUTION

I was running wildly all the way to Dover.  I had already lost my box and half a guinea.  I came to a stop in Kent Road.  A terrace with a piece of water before it. A foolish image in the middle blowing a dry shell.  Here I sat on a door step.  I was quite spent and exhausted.

It was getting dark. I heard the clock strike ten, as I sat resting.  Being summer the weather was fine.  As I recovered my breath, the stifling sensation in my throat passed away. I rose up and continued my journey.  I had no notion of going back.  I searched my pocket and found that there were three half pence left.  I wonder how it came to be left there.  My mind began to evolve evil stories- one such story being a scrap of news paper intelligence, my being found dead in a day or two, under a hedge.

I trudged on miserably, until I happened to pass a little shop, where it was written up that ladies' and gentlemen's wardrobes were bought, and that best price for rags, bones and kitchen stuff.  The master of the shop was sitting at the door in his shirt sleeves, smoking; and as there were as many shirts and coats, and pairs of trousers  dangling from the ceiling, and only two feeble candles burning inside to show what they were, I fancied that he looked like a man of a revengeful disposition, who had hung all his enemies, and was enjoying himself.

My late experience with Mr and Mrs Micawber suggested to me that here might be a means of keeping off the wolf for a little while.  I went up the next by-street, took off the waistcoat, rolled it neatly under my arm, and came back to the shop door.

'If you please, sir, I am to sell this for a fair price,' 

Mr Dolloby - It was the name over the shop door, at least- took the waist coat, stood his pipe on his head, against the door post, went into the shop, followed by me, snuffed the two candles with his fingers, spread the waist coat on the  counter, and looked at it there, and ultimately said: 

'What do you call a price, now, here for this little waistcoat?

'Oh! You know best, sir,' I returned modesty.

'I can't be buyer and seller too,' said he, 'put a price here, on the waistcoat,'

'Would eighteen pence be?' I hinted after some hesitation.

Mr Dolloby rolled it up again and gave it me back.  'I should rob my family,' he said, 'If I was to offer nine pence for it.'

This was a disagreeable way, a perfect stranger, Mr Dolloby to rob his family on behalf of me.  So, I decided to take ninepence, and Mr Dolloby gave me ninepence with a grumble.  I wished him good night and walked out of the shop, the richer by the sum and poorer by waistcoat.  But when, I buttoned my jacket, that was not much.  Indeed I foresaw, pretty clearly that my jacket would go next and I should have to make the best of my way to Dover in a shirt and pair of trousers, and might deem myself lucky, if I got there even in that trim.  But my mind did not run so much on this as might be supposed.  Beyond a general impression of the distance before me, and of the long legged young man, with the donkey cart, having used me cruelly, I think I had no general sense of my difficulties, when I set off with my ninepence in my pocket.

A plan had occurred to me for passing the night, which I was going to carry into execution.  This was to lie behind the wall at the back of my old school, in a corner where there used to be a haystack.  I imagined it would be a kind of company to have the boys, and the bedroom where I used to tell stories, so near to me: although the boys would know nothing of my being there, and the bed room would yield me no shelter.

I had had a hard days work, and was pretty well jaded, when I came climbing out, at last, upon the level of Blackheath.  It cost me some trouble to find out Salem House, but I found it, and I found a haystack in the corner, and I lay down by it, having first lying down, without a roof above my head!

Sleep came upon me as it came upon many other outcasts, against whom house doors were locked, and house dogs barked, that night - I dreamt of lying on my old school bed, talking to the boys in my room, and found myself sitting upright, with Steerforth's name upon my lips, looking wildly at the stars that were glistening, and glimmering above me.  When I remembered where I was at that untimely hour a feeling stole upon me that made me get up, afraid of I don't know what, and walked about.  But the fainter glimmering of stars, and the pale light in the sky where the day was coming, reassured me: and my eyes being very heavy, I lay down again and slept- though with a knowledge in my sleep that it was cold - until the warm beams of the sun, and the ringing of the getting -up bell in the Salem House, awoke me.  If I could have hoped that Steerforth was there, I would have lurked about until he came out alone; but I know he must have left long since.  Traddles still remained, perhaps, but it was very doubtful, and I had not sufficient confidence in his discretion or good luck, however strong my reliance on his good nature to wish to trust with my situation.  So I crept away from the walls as Mr Creakle's boys were getting up and struck into the long dusty track which I had first known to be the Dover Road when I was one of them, when I little expected that any eyes would ever see me the wayfarer I was now, upon it.

With a different Sunday morning from the old Sunday morning at Yarmouth.  In due time I heard the church bells ringing as I plodded on, and as I met people who were going to church, and I passed a church or two where congregations were inside, and the sound of singing came out into the sunshine, while the beadle sat and cooled himself in the shade of the porch, or stood beneath the yew tree with his hand to his forehead, looking angrily at me going by.  But the peace and rest of the old Sunday morning were on every thing except me.  I felt quite wicked in my dirt and dust, with my tangled hair.  But for the quiet picture I had conjured, of my mother in her youth and beauty, weeping by the fire, and my aunt relenting to her, I hardly think I should have the courage to go on until the next day.  But it always went before me, and I followed it.

I got, that Sunday, three and twenty miles, on the straight road, though not very easily, for I was new to that kind of toil.

As evening closed I came over the bridge at Rochester, foot sore and tired, and eating bread that I had brought for supper.  One or two little houses, with notice, 'Lodging for Travellers' hanging out, tempted me, but I was afraid to spend the few pence I had, and was afraid even more of the vicious looks of tramp I had met or overtaken.  I sought no shelter, therefore but the sky; and toiling into Chatham - which in that night's aspect is a mere dream of chalk, and draw bridges, and mast-less ships in a muddy river, roofed like Noah's Arks, - crept, at last, upon a  grass grown battery over hanging a lane, where a sentry was walking to and fro.  Here I lay down, near a canon; and, happy in the society of the sentry's footsteps, though he knew no more of my being above him, than the boys at Salem House had known of my lying by the wall, slept soundly until the morning.

Very stiff and sore of foot I was in the morning, and quite dazed by beating of drums and marching of troops, which seemed to hem me in on every side when I went down towards the long narrow Street.  Feeling that I could go but a very little way that day, if I were to reserve any strength for getting to the end of my journey, I resolved to sell my jacket.  I took off the jacket so as to learn to do without it, and carrying it under my arm began a search of buyer.

It was likely a place to sell a jacket, numerous dealers in second hand clothes were on the lookout for customers at shop doors.  But as most of them had, hanging up among their stock, an officer's coat or two, epaulets and all, I was timid by the costly nature of their dealings, and walked about for a long time without offering my merchandise to anyone.

This modesty of mine directed my attention to the marine-store shops, and such shops as Mr Dolloby's, in preference to the regular dealers.  At last I found one, that I thought looked promising, at the corner of a dirty lane, ending in an enclosure full of stinging nettles, against the palings of which, some second-hand sailors' clothes that seemed to have overflowed the shop, were fluttering among some cots, and rusty guns, and oil skin hats, and certain trays full of so many old rusty keys of so many sizes that they seemed various enough to open all the doors in the world.

Into this shop, which was low and small, which was darkened, rather than lightened by a little window, overhung with clothes, and was descended into by some steps, I went with a palpitating heart; which was not relieved when an ugly old man, with lower part of his face, all covered with stubby grey beared rushed out of a dirty den behind it, and siezed me by the hair of my head.  He was a dreadful old man to look at, in a filthy flannel waistcoat and smelling terribly of rum.  His bed-stead, covered with a tumbled and ragged piece of patch work was in the den he had come from, when another little window showed a prospect of more stinging nettles, and a lame donkey.

'Oh, what do you want?', grinned this old man, in fierce monotonous voice. 'Oh my eyes and limbs, what do you want? Oh my lungs and liver, what do you want? Oh garoo garoo!'

I was so much dismayed by these words, and particularly by the last unknown one, which was a kind of rattle in his throat, that could make no answer; here upon the old man still holding me by the hair, repeated:

'Oh what do you want? Oh my eyes and limbs, what do you want? Oh my lungs and liver, what do you want? Oh garoo! which he screwed out of himself, with an energy that made his eyes start in his head.

'I wanted to know,' I said trembling, 'if you would buy a jacket.'

'Oh, let us see the jacket,' cried the old man.  'Oh, my heart on fire, show the jacket to us! Oh, my eyes and limbs, bring the jacket out.'

With that he took his trembling hands, which were like the claws of a great bird, out of my hair; and put on a pair of spectacles, not at all ornamental to his inflamed eyes.

'Oh, how much for the old jacket?' cried the old man, after examining it. Oh, garoo!, how much for the jacket?'

'Half a crown,' I answered, recovering myself.

'Oh, my lungs and liver,' cried the old man, 'no! ho, my eyes, no! eighteen pence,'

Every time he ejaculated these words, his eyes were in danger of starting out; and every sentence he spoke, he delivered in a sort of tune, always exactly the same, and more like a gust of wind, which began low, mounted up, but fell again.

'Well,' said I to close the transaction, 'I will take eighteen pence.'

'Oh, my liver,' cried the old man, throwing the jacket on a shelf, 'Get out of the shop! Oh my eyes and limbs- goroo don't ask for money, make it an exchange.'  I never was so frightened in my life, before or since; but I told him humbly that I wanted money, and nothing else was of any use to me, but that I would wait for it, as he desired outside, and had no wish to hurry him.  So, I went outside and sat in a shade in a corner.  And I sat there so many hours, that the shade became sunlight, and the sunlight again shade, and I sat there waiting for money 

There was no other drunken mad man in that line of business, I hope.  That he was well known in neighbourhood and enjoyed the reputation of having sold himself to devil.  I soon understood from the visits he received from the boys, who came continually making skirmishes about the shop, shouting that legend and calling to him to bring out his gold.  'You ain't no poor, you know Charlie, as you pretend.  Bring out your gold.  Bring out some of the gold you sold yourself to the devil.  Come.  It's in the lining of the mattress, Charlie.  Rip it open and let's have some!  This and many offers to lend him knife for the purpose, exasperated him to such a degree that all day was a succession of rushes on his part, and flights on the part of the boys.  Sometimes in his rage he would take me for one of them, and come at me, mouthing as if he were going to tear me in pieces, then, remembering  me just in time; would dive into shop, and lie upon his bed, as I thought from the sound of his voice, yelling in a frantic way to his own windy tune, 'the death of Nelson' with a oh before every lines, and innumerable garoo interspersed.  As if this were not enough for me, the boys connecting me with the establishment, on account of the patience and perseverance with which I sat outside, half dressed, pelted me, and used me very ill all the day.

He made many attempts to induce to exchange, at one time coming out with a fishing rod, at another with a fiddle, at another with a cocked hat, at another with a flute.  But I resisted all these overtures, and sat there in desperation, each time asking him, with tears in my eyes, for money or my packet, at last he began to give me halfpence at a time, and was full two hours getting by stages to a shilling.

'Oh, my eyes and my limbs!,' he then cried, peeping hideously out of the shop, after a long pause, 'Will you go for twopence more?'

'I can't, I shall be starved.'

'Oh, my lungs and liver, will you go for threepence?'

'I would go for nothing, if I could, but I want the money badly.' 

'Oh, go-roo' ( It was really impossible to express how he twisted this ejaculation out of himself, as he peeped round the door post, at me, showing nothing but his crafty old head); will you go for fourpence?'

I was so faint and weary that I closed with this offer; and taking the money out of his claw, not without trembling, went away more hungry and thirsty than I had ever been, a little before sunset.

But at an expense of threepence I soon refreshed myself completely; and being in better spirits then limped seven miles upon the road.

By bed at night was another haystack, where I rested comfortably, after having washed my blistered feet in a stream, and dressed them as well as I was able, with some cool leaves.  When I took the road again next morning, I found that it lay through a succession of hop grounds and orchards.  It was sufficiently late in the year for the orchards to be ruddy with ripe apples, and in a few places the hop-pickers were already at work.  I thought it all extremely beautiful, and made up my mind to sleep among the hops that night, imagining some cheerful companions, with graceful leaves twining around them.

Tramps were worse than ever that day, and quiet fresh dread arose in my mind.  Some of them were most ferocious looking ruffians, who stared at me as I went by, stopped perhaps and called after me, to come back and speak to them, and when I took to my heels, stoned me.  I recollect the young fellow- a tinker I suppose, from his wallet and brazier- who had a woman with him, and who faced about and stared at me this; and then roared to me in such a tremendous voice to come back, that I halted and looked round. 

'Come here when you are called,' said the tinker, 'or I will rip your young body open.'  I thought it best to go back.  As I drew near to them, trying to propitiate the tinker by my looks, I observed that the woman had a black eye.

'Where are you going?' said the tinker gripping the bosom of my shirt with his blackened hand.

'I am going to Dover,' I said 

'Where do you come from?,' asked the tinker, giving his hand another turn in my shirt, to hold me more securely 

'What lay are you upon?' asked the tinker, 'are you a prig?'

'N- no,' I said

'Ain't you, by G-? If you make a brag of your honesty to me,' said the tinker, I'll break your brains out.' 

With his disengaged hand, he made a menace of striking me, and then looked at me from head to foot.

'Have you got the price of pint of beer about you? said the tinker, 'if you have, out with it, afore I take it away!'

I should certainly have produced it, but that I met the woman's look, and saw her very lightly shake their head, and form 'no' with her lips.

'I  am very poor,' I said, attempting to smile 'and have got no money.'

'Why, What do you mean?' said the tinker, looking so sternly at me, that I almost feared he saw the money in pocket.

'Sir!' I stammered.

'What do you mean,' said the tinker, by wearing my brother's silk handkerchief!  Give it over here!' And he had mine off my neck in a moment, and tossed it to the woman.

The woman burst into a fit of laughter as if she thought this a joke, and tossed it back to me, nodded once as slightly as before, and made the word 'God!' with her lips before I could obey, however the tinker seized the handkerchief out of my hand with a roughness that threw me away like a feather, and putting it loosely round his own neck, turned upon the woman with an oath, and knocked her down.  I never shall forget seeing her fall backward on the hard road, and lie there with her bonnet tumbled off, and her hair all whiten with dust; nor I looked back from a distance, seeing her sitting on the path way, which was a bank by the road side, wiping the blood from her face, with a corner of her shawl while he went on ahead.

This adventure frightened me, and afterwards when I saw any of these people coming, I turned back until I could find a hiding place, where I remained until they had gone out of sight; which happened so often, that I was very seriously delayed.  But under these difficulties, and under all other difficulties of my journey I was sustained and led on by the fanciful picture of my mother in her youth, before I came into this world.  It always kept me company.  It was there, among the hops when I lay asleep, it was with me in the morning when I woke up, it went before me all day.  I have associated it ever since, with sunny street of Canterbury, dozing as it were in the hot light and with the sights of its old houses and gateways, and the stately grey Cathedral, with the rocks sailing round the towers.  When I came, at last, upon the bare, wide downs of Dover, it relieved the solitary aspect of the scene with hope; and not until I reached the first great aim of my journey, and actually set foot in the town itself on the sixth day of my flight, did it desert me.  But then, strange to say, when I stood with my ragged shoes, and my dusty, sunburnt, half-clothed figure, in the place so long desired, it seemed to vanish like a dream, and left me helpless and dispirited.

I enquired about my aunt, among the boatmen first, and received various answers.  Some said she lived in South Foreland Light, and signed her whiskers by doing so; another, that she was made fast to the great buoy outside the harbour, and could only be visited at half- tide; a third, that she was locked up in Maidstone jail for  child-stealing, a fourth, that she was seen to mount a broom in the last high wind, and made direct for Calais.  The fly-drivers among whom I enquired next, were equally jocose and equally disrespectful, and the shop-keepers, not liking my appearance, generally replied, without hearing what I had to say, that they had got nothing for me.  I felt more miserable and destitute than ever before.  My money was all gone, I had nothing left to dispose of; I was hungry, thirsty, and worn out; and seemed as distant from my end as if I had remained in London.

The morning had worn away in these enquiries, and I was sitting on the step of an empty shop at a street corner, near the market place, thinking of wandering other places, which had been mentioned, when a fly-driver, coming with his carriage, dropped a horse cloth.  Something good natured in the man's face as I handed it up encouraged me to ask him if he could tell me where Miss Trotwood lived, though I had asked the question, so often, that it almost died upon my lips.

'Trotwood,' said he. 'Let me see, I know the name, too, old lady?'

'Yes,' I said, 'rather.'

'Pretty stiff, in the back?' said he, making himself upright.

'Yes,' I said.  'I should think it very likely.'

'Carries a bag?' said he- 'bag with good deal of room in it- is gruff, and comes down upon you, sharp?'

My heart sank within me as I acknowledged the undoubted accuracy of description.

'Why then, I tell you what,' said he, 'if you go up there,' pointing with towards the heights, 'and keep right on till you come to some houses facing the sea, I think you will hear of her.  My opinion is she won't stand anything, so here's a penny for you.' 

I accepted the gift thankfully, and bought a loaf with it.

Enjoying this refreshment by the way, I went in the direction the friend had indicated, and walked on a good distance without coming to the houses he had mentioned.  At length I saw some before me, and approaching them, went into a little shop ( it was what we used to call a general shop at home) and enquired if they could have the goodness to tell me where Miss Trotwood lived.  I addressed myself to a man behind the counter, who was weighing some rice for a young woman, but the latter taking the question to herself turned round quickly.

'My mistress? What do you want with her, boy?

'I want,' I replied, 'to speak with her, if you please.'

'To beg her, you mean,' retorted the damsel 

'No,' I said, 'indeed.' But suddenly remembering that in truth I came for no other reason, I held my peace in confusion, and felt my face burn.

My aunt's handmaid, as I supposed she was from what she had said, put her rice in a little basket, and walked out of the shop; telling me that I could follow her, if I wanted to know where Miss Trotwood lived.  I need no second permission, though I was by this time in such a state of  consternation and agitation, that my legs shook under me.  I followed the young woman, and we very soon came to a neat little cottage with cheerful bow-windows: in front of it a small gravel square court or garden full of flowers, carefully tended, and smelling deliciously.

'This is Miss Trotwood's,' said the woman, 'Now you know, and that's all I got to say.'  With these words she hurried into the house, as if to shake off responsibility of my appearance; and left me standing at the garden gate, looking unhappy over the top of it towards the parlour window, where a muslin curtain partly not drawn in the middle, a large round green screen or fan fastened to the window sill, a small table and a great chair, suggested to me that my aunt might be at that moment seated in an awful state.

My shoes were, by this time, in a woeful condition.  The soles had shed themselves bit by bit, and the upper leathers were broken and burst until the very shape and form of shoes had departed from them.  My hat ( which had served me for the night-cap, too) was crushed and and bent, that no old battered hand-less saucepan on a dunghill need have been ashamed to vie with it.  My shirt and trousers, stained with heat, dew, grass and the Kentish soil on which I had slept- and torn besides- might have frightened the birds from my aunt's garden, as I stood at the gate.  My hair had known no comb or brush since I left London.  My face, neck, and hands from unaccustomed exposure to air and sun, were burnt a berry-brown.  From head to foot I was powdered almost as white with chalk and dust, as if I had come out of a lime kiln.  In this plight, and with a strong consciousness of it, I waited to introduce myself to, and make my first impression on my formidable aunt.  The unbroken stillness of the parlour window leading me to infer, after a while, that she was not there, I lifted up my eyes to the window above it, where I saw a florid, pleasant looking gentleman, with grey head, who shut up one eye, in a grotesque manner, nodded his head several times, shook it at me so often, laughed and went away.

I had already lost enough of my composure, but the unexpected behaviour of the grey head made it worse.  I was thinking of how to proceed further, when there came out of the house a lady with her hand-kerchief tied over her cap, and a pair of gardening gloves on her hands, wearing a gardening pocket like a toll man's apron, and carrying a great knife.  I knew her immediately to be Miss Betsy, for she came stalking out of the house exactly as my poor mother had often described her stalking up our garden in Blunderstone Rookery.

'Go away!' said Miss Betsy, shaking her head, and making a distant chop in the air, with her knife. 'Go along! No boys here!'

I watched her, with my heart at my lips, as she marched to a corner of her garden, and stooped to dig up some little root there.  Then, without a scrap of courage, but with a great deal of desperation, I went softly in and stood beside her, touching her with my finger.

'If you, please ma'am,' I began.

She started and looked up.

'If you please, aunt.'

'Eh?' exclaimed Miss Betsy, in a tone of amazement, I have never heard.

'If you please, aunt, I am your nephew.'

'Oh, lord!' said my aunt.  And sat flat down in the garden path.

'I am David Copperfield, of Blunderstone, in Suffolk- where you came, on the night when I was born, and saw my dear mama.  I have been very unhappy since she died.  I have been slighted, and taught nothing, and thrown upon myself, and put to work not fit for me.  It made me run away to you.  I was robbed at first setting out, and have walked all the way, and have never slept in a bed since I began the journey.'  Here my self support gave all at once; and with a movement of my hands, intended to show my ragged state, and call it to witness that I had suffered something, I broke into a passion of crying, which I suppose, had been pent up all the week.

My aunt, with a very sort of expression, but wonder discharged from her countenance, sat on the gravel, staring at me, until I began to cry, when she got up in a hurry, collared me, and took me into the parlour.  Her first proceeding there was to unlock a tall press, bring out several bottles, and pour the contents of each into my mouth.  I think they must have been taken out at random, for I am sure I tasted aniseed water, anchovy sauce, and salad dressing.  When she had administered these restoratives, as I was still quite hysterical, and unable to control my sobs, she put me on a sofa, with a shawl under my head, and the hand-kerchief from her own head under my feet lest I should sully the cover, and then, sitting herself down behind the green fan or screen I have already mentioned, so that I could not see her face; ejaculated at intervals 'Mercy on us' letting those exclamations off like minute guns.

After a time, she rang the bell. 'Janet,' said my aunt, when her servant came in.  'Go upstairs, give my compliments to Mr Dick, and say I wish to speak to him.' 

Janet looked a little surprised to see me lying stiffly on the sofa, (I was afraid to move lest it should be displeasing to my aunt) but went on her errand.  My aunt, with her hands behind her, walked up and down the room, until the gentleman who had squinted at me from the upper window came in laughing.

'Mr Dick,' said my aunt, 'don't be a fool, because nobody can be more discreet than you can, when you choose.  We all know that.  So, don't be a fool, whatever you are.'

The gentleman was very serious immediately, and looked at me, I thought as if he would entreat me to say nothing about the window.

'Mr Dick,' said my aunt, 'you have heard me mention David Copperfield? Now not pretend not to have a memory, because you and I know better.'

'David Copperfield?' said Mr Dick, who did not appear to me to remember much about it.  'David Copperfield? Oh yes, to be sure.  David, certainly.'

'Well,' said my aunt, 'this is the boy- his son.  He would be as like his father as it's possible to be, if he was not so like his mother, too.' 

'His son?' said Mr Dick, 'David's son? Indeed!'

'Yes,' said my aunt, 'and he has done a pretty piece of business.  He has run away.'  My aunt shook her head firmly, confident, in the character and behaviour of the girl who was never born.

'Oh, you think, she wouldn't have run away.' said Mr Dick.

'Bless and save the man,' said my aunt, sharply, 'how he talks! Don't know she wouldn't?  She would have lived with her god mother, and we should have been devoted to one another.  Where, in the name of wonder, should his sister, Betsy Trotwood have run from or to?'

'Nowhere,' said Mr Dick 

'Well then,' returned my aunt, softened by the reply, 'how can you pretend to be wool gathering, Dick, when you are as sharp as a surgeon's lancet? Now, here you see young David Copperfield, and the question I put to you is, what shall I do with him?' 

'What shall you do with him?' said Mr Dick, feeble, scratching his head.  Oh! do with him?' 

'Yes,' said my aunt with a grave look, and her forefinger held up.  'Come! I want some very sound advice.'

'Why, if I was you,' said Mr Dick, considering, and looking vacantly at me, 'I should-' The contemplation of me seemed to inspire him with a sudden idea, and he added, briskly, 'I should wash him.'

'Janet,' said my aunt, turning round with great triumph, which I did not then understood, 'Mr Dick sets us all right.  Heat the bath.'

Although I was deeply interested in the dialogue I could not help observing my aunt, Mr Dick and Janet, while it was in progress, and completing a survey, I had already been engaged in making of the room.

My aunt was a tall, hard featured lady, but by no means ill looking.  Her face was an inflexible, so too was her voice, gait and carriage ; and all these together account for the effect she made on a gentle creature like my mother, but her features were rather handsome than otherwise, though not bending and austere.  I particularly noticed that she had a very quick, bright eye.  Her hair, which was grey was arranged in two plain divisions, under what I believe to be a mop-cap; I mean a cap much more common then, than now, with side pieces fastening under the chin.  Her dress was of lavender colour and perfectly neat but scantily made as if she desired to be as little encumbered as possible.  I remember that I thought it, in form, more like a riding habit with the superfluous skirt cut off, than anything else.  She wore at her side a gentleman's gold watch, if I might judge from its size and make, with an appropriate chain and seals; she had some linen at her throat like a shirt collar and things at her wrists like little shirt wrist bands.

Mr Dick, as I have already said was grey headed and florid: I should have said all about him, in saying so, had not his head been curiously bowed-not by age; it reminded me of Mr Creakle's boys' heads after a beating- and his grey eyes prominent and large, with a strange kind of watery brightness in them, that made me in combination with his vacant manner, his submission to my aunt, and his childish delight when she praised him, suspect him of being little mad; though if he were mad, how he came to be there puzzled me extremely.  He was dressed like any other ordinary gentleman in a loose grey morning coat and waistcoat, and white trousers, and had his watch in his fob, and money in his pockets, which he rattled as if he were very proud of it.

Janet was a pretty blooming girl, of about nineteen or twenty, and a perfect picture of neatness.  Though I made no other observation of her for the moment, I may mention here what I did not discover until afterwards, namely, that she was one of a series of proteges whom my aunt had taken into her service, expressly to educate in a renouncement of mankind, and who had generally completed their abjuration by marrying the baker.

The room was as neat as Janet or my aunt.  As I laid down my pen, a moment since, to think of it, the air from sea came blowing in again, mixed with the perfume of flowers; and I saw the old-fashioned furniture, brightly rubbed and polished, my aunt's inviolable chair and table by the round green fan in the bow-window, the drugget covered carpet, the cat, the kettle holder, two canaries, the old china, the punch bowl full of dried rose leaves, the tall press guarding all kinds of bottles and pots, and, out of keeping with the rest my dusty self upon the sofa, taking note of every thing.

Janet had gone away to get the bath ready, when my aunt, to my great alarm, became in one moment rigid with indignation, and had hardly voice to cry out, 'Janet! Donkeys!'

Upon which, Janet came running up the stairs, as if the house were in flames, darted out on a little piece of green front, and warned off two saddle donkeys, lady ridden, that had presumed to set hoof upon it; while my aunt, rushing out of the house, seized the bridle of a third animal laden with a best riding child, turned him, and and led him forth from those sacred precincts, and boxed the ear of the unlucky urchin in attendance who had dared to profane that hallowed ground.

To this hour, I don't know whether my aunt has any lawful right of way over that patch of green; but she had settled it in her own mind that she had, and it was all the same to her. The one great outrage of her life, demanding to be constantly avenged, was the passage of donkeys over the immaculate spot.  In whatever occupation she was engaged, however interesting to her the conversation in which she was taking part, a donkey turned the current of her ideas in a moment, and she was upon him straight.  Jugs of water, and watering pots were kept in secret places ready to be discharged on the offending boys, sticks were laid in ambush behind doors, sallies were made at all hours; and incessant war prevailed.  Perhaps this was an agreeable excitement to the donkey-boys; or perhaps the more sagacious of the donkeys, understanding how the case stood delighted with constitutional obstinacy in coming that way.  I only know that there were three alarms before the bath was ready; that on the occasion of the last and most desparate of all, I saw my aunt engaged, single handed, with a sandy-headed lad of fifteen, and bump up his sandy head against her own gate, before he seemed to understand what was the matter.  These interruptions were of the more ridiculous to me, because she was giving me broth out of a table-spoon at that time (having firmly persuaded herself that I was actually starving, and must receive nourishment at first in small quantities), and, while my mouth was yet open to receive the spoon, she would put it back into the basin, cry 'Janet! Donkeys!' and go out to the assault.

The bath was a great comfort.  I began to be sensible of acute pain in my limbs from lying out in fields, and was now so tired and low that I could hardly keep myself awake for five minutes together. When I had bathed, they ( I mean my aunt and Janet ) enrobed me in a shirt and a pair of trousers belonging to Mr Dick and tied me up in two or three shawls.  What sort of bundle I looked like, I don't know, but I felt a very hot one.  Feeling very faint and drowsy, I soon lay down on the sofa again and fell asleep.

It might have been a dream, originating in the fancy which had occupied my mind so long, but I awoke with the impression that my aunt had come and bent over me and had put my hair away from my face, and laid my hair more comfortably and had then stood looking at me.  The words, 'pretty fellow' or 'poor fellow' seemed to be in my ears too; but certainly there was nothing else, when I awoke to lead me to believe that they had been uttered by my aunt, who sat in the bow-window gazing at the sea from behind the green fan, which was mounted on a kind of swivel, and turned any way.

We dined soon after I awoke, off a roast fowl and pudding; I sitting at table, not unlike a trussed bird myself, and moving my arms with considerable difficulty.  But as my aunt had swathed me up, I made no complain of inconvenience.  All this time I was deeply anxious to know what she was going to do with me; but she took her dinner in profound silence, except when she occasionally fixed her eyes on me sitting opposite, and said, 'Mercy upon us' which did not by any means relieved my anxiety.

The cloth being drawn, and some sherry put upon the table( of which I had a glass), my aunt sent up for Mr Dick again, who joined us, and looked as wise as he could, when she requested him to attend to my story, which she elicited from me, gradually, by a course of questions.  During my recital, she kept her eyes on Mr Dick, who I thought would have gone to sleep, but for that, and who, whenever he lapsed into a smile, was checked by a frown by my aunt.

'Whatever possessed that poor unfortunate Baby, that she must go and be married again,' said my aunt, when I had finished, 'I can't conceive.'

'Perhaps she fell in love with his second husband,' Mr Dick suggested.

'Fell in love!' repeated my aunt.  ' What do you mean? What business had she to do it?

'Perhaps,' Mr Dick simpered, after thinking a little, 'she did it for pleasure.'

'Pleasure, indeed!' replied my aunt.  'A mighty pleasure for the poor Baby to fix her simple faith upon any dog of a fellow, certain to ill-use her in some way or other.  What did she propose to herself, I should like to know! She had one husband.  She had seen David Copperfield out of world who was always running after wax dolls from his cradle.  She had got a baby- oh, there were a pair of babies  when she gave birth to this child sitting here, that Friday night!- and what more did she want?

Mr Dick secretly shook his head to me, as if he thought there was no getting over this.

'She couldn't even have a baby like anybody else,' said my aunt.  'Where was this child's sister, Betsy Trotwood? Not forthcoming. Don't tell me.'

Mr Dick seemed quite frightened.

'That little man of doctor, with his head on one side,' said my aunt, 'Jellips or whatever his name was, what was he about? All he could do, was to say to me, like a robin redbreast- as he is - 'it's a boy.' 'A boy! Yah, the imbecility of all set of them.'

The heartiness of the ejaculation startled Mr Dick exceedingly; me too if I am to tell the truth.

And then, as if this was not enough, and she had not stood sufficiently, in the light of this child's sister, Betsey Trotwood,' said my aunt, 'she names a second time- goes and names a Murderer- or a man with a name like it- and stands in THIS child's light!  And the natural consequence is, as anybody but a baby might have foreseen, that he prowls and wanders.  He is as like a Cain before he was grown up, as he can be.'

Mr Dick looked hard at me, as if to identify me in this character. 

'And there is that woman with the pagan name,' said my aunt, 'that Peggotty, she goes and get married next.  Because she has not seen enough of evil attending such things, she goes and gets married next as the child relates.  I only hope,' said my aunt, shaking her head, 'that her husband is one of those poker husbands, who abound in newspapers, and will beat her well with one.'

I could not bear my old nurse so descried, and made the subject of such a wish.  I told my aunt that indeed she was mistaken.  That Peggotty was the best, truest, the most faithful, most devoted, and most self denying friend and servant in the world, who had ever loved me dearly, who had ever loved my mother dearly, who had held my mother's dying head upon her arm, on whose face my mother had imprinted her last graceful kiss.  And my remembrance of them both, choking me, I broke down as I was trying to say that her home was my home, and that all she had was mine, and that I would have gone to her for shelter, but for her humble station, which made me fear that I might bring some trouble on her- I broke down, I say, as I was trying to say so, and laid my face in my hands upon the table.

'Well, well!' said my aunt, 'the child is right to stand by those who stood by him- Janet! Donkeys!'

I thoroughly believe that but for those unfortunate donkeys, we shoud have come to a good understanding; for my aunt had laid her hand on my shoulder, and the impulse was upon me, thus emboldened, to embrace her and beseech her protection.  But the interruption, and the disorder she was thrown into by the struggle outside, put an end to all softer ideas for the present,and kept my aunt indignantly declaiming to Mr Dick about her determination to appeal for a redress to the laws of her country and to bring action for trespass against whole donkey proprietor ship of Dover until teatime.

After tea, we sat at the window- on the lookout as I imagined, from my aunt's sharp expression of face, for more invaders- until desk when Janet set candles, and a backgammon board, on the table, and pulled down the blinds.

'Now Mr Dick,' said my aunt, with her grave look, and her forefinger up as before, 'I am going to ask you another question.  Look at this child.'

'David's son,' said Mr Dick, with an attentive, puzzled, face.

'Exactly so,' returned my aunt, 'what would you do with him now?'

'Do with David's son?' said Mr Dick.

'Ay,' replied my aunt, 'David's son.'

'Oh,' said Mr Dick, 'yes do with- I should put him to bed.'

'Janet!' cried my aunt, with the same complacent triumph that I had remarked before.  'Mr Dick sets us all right. If the bed is ready we'll take him upto it.'

 Janet reporting it to be quite ready, I was taken upto it, kindly, but in some sort like a prisoner; my aunt going in front and Janet bringing up the rear.  The only circumstance which gave me new hope was my aunt's stopping on the stairs to inquire about a smell of the fire that was prevalant there; and Janet's replying that she had been making tinder down in the kitchen, of my old shirt.  But there were no other clothes in my room than the odd cheap of things I wore; and when I was left there with a little taper which my aunt forewarned me would burn exactly five minutes, I heard them lock my door on the outside.  Turning these things over in my mind I deemed it possible that my aunt, who could know nothing of me might suspect that I had a habit of running away, and took precautions, on that account, to have me in the safe keeping.

The room was a pleasant one, at the top of the house, overlooking the sea, on which the moon was shining brilliantly.  After I had said my prayers, and the candle had burnt out, I remember how I still sat, looking at the moonlight on the water, as I could hope to read my fortune in it, as in a bright book, or to see my mother with her child, coming from heaven, along that shining path to look upon me, as she had looked when I last saw her sweet face.  I remember how the solemn feeling with which at length I turned my eyes away, yielding to the sensation of  gratitude and rest which the sight of white curtained bed- and how much more lying softly down upon it, nestling in the snow-white sheets!- inspired.  I remember how I thought of all the solitary places under the night sky where I had slept, and how I prayed that I never might be houseless anymore, and never might forget the houseless.  I remember how I seemed to float, then, down the melancholy glory of that track upon the sea, away into the world of  dreams.

THE END OF THE CHAPTER