No More Learning

I groped my way to the door, and putting my own lips to the keyhole,
whispered: 'Is that you, Peggotty dear? '

'Yes, my own precious Davy,' she replied. 'Be as soft as a mouse, or the
Cat'll hear us. '

I understood this to mean Miss Murdstone, and was sensible of the
urgency of the case; her room being close by.

'How's mama, dear Peggotty? Is she very angry with me? '

I could hear Peggotty crying softly on her side of the keyhole, as I was
doing on mine, before she answered. 'No. Not very. '

'What is going to be done with me, Peggotty dear? Do you know? '

'School. Near London,' was Peggotty's answer. I was obliged to get her
to repeat it, for she spoke it the first time quite down my throat,
in consequence of my having forgotten to take my mouth away from the
keyhole and put my ear there; and though her words tickled me a good
deal, I didn't hear them.

'When, Peggotty? '

'Tomorrow. '

'Is that the reason why Miss Murdstone took the clothes out of my
drawers? ' which she had done, though I have forgotten to mention it.

'Yes,' said Peggotty. 'Box. '

'Shan't I see mama? '

'Yes,' said Peggotty. 'Morning. '

Then Peggotty fitted her mouth close to the keyhole, and delivered these
words through it with as much feeling and earnestness as a keyhole
has ever been the medium of communicating, I will venture to assert:
shooting in each broken little sentence in a convulsive little burst of
its own.

'Davy, dear. If I ain't been azackly as intimate with you. Lately, as I
used to be. It ain't because I don't love you. Just as well and more, my
pretty poppet. It's because I thought it better for you. And for someone
else besides. Davy, my darling, are you listening? Can you hear? '

'Ye-ye-ye-yes, Peggotty! ' I sobbed.

'My own! ' said Peggotty, with infinite compassion. 'What I want to say,
is. That you must never forget me. For I'll never forget you. And I'll
take as much care of your mama, Davy. As ever I took of you. And I won't
leave her. The day may come when she'll be glad to lay her poor head.
On her stupid, cross old Peggotty's arm again. And I'll write to you,
my dear. Though I ain't no scholar. And I'll--I'll--' Peggotty fell to
kissing the keyhole, as she couldn't kiss me.

'Thank you, dear Peggotty! ' said I. 'Oh, thank you! Thank you! Will you
promise me one thing, Peggotty? Will you write and tell Mr. Peggotty and
little Em'ly, and Mrs. Gummidge and Ham, that I am not so bad as they
might suppose, and that I sent 'em all my love--especially to little
Em'ly? Will you, if you please, Peggotty? '

The kind soul promised, and we both of us kissed the keyhole with the
greatest affection--I patted it with my hand, I recollect, as if it had
been her honest face--and parted. From that night there grew up in my
breast a feeling for Peggotty which I cannot very well define. She did
not replace my mother; no one could do that; but she came into a vacancy
in my heart, which closed upon her, and I felt towards her something
I have never felt for any other human being. It was a sort of comical
affection, too; and yet if she had died, I cannot think what I should
have done, or how I should have acted out the tragedy it would have been
to me.

In the morning Miss Murdstone appeared as usual, and told me I was going
to school; which was not altogether such news to me as she supposed. She
also informed me that when I was dressed, I was to come downstairs into
the parlour, and have my breakfast. There, I found my mother, very pale
and with red eyes: into whose arms I ran, and begged her pardon from my
suffering soul.

'Oh, Davy! ' she said. 'That you could hurt anyone I love! Try to be
better, pray to be better! I forgive you; but I am so grieved, Davy,
that you should have such bad passions in your heart. '

They had persuaded her that I was a wicked fellow, and she was more
sorry for that than for my going away. I felt it sorely. I tried to eat
my parting breakfast, but my tears dropped upon my bread-and-butter,
and trickled into my tea. I saw my mother look at me sometimes, and then
glance at the watchful Miss Murdstone, and than look down, or look away.

'Master Copperfield's box there! ' said Miss Murdstone, when wheels were
heard at the gate.

I looked for Peggotty, but it was not she; neither she nor Mr. Murdstone
appeared. My former acquaintance, the carrier, was at the door. The box
was taken out to his cart, and lifted in.

'Clara! ' said Miss Murdstone, in her warning note.

'Ready, my dear Jane,' returned my mother. 'Good-bye, Davy. You are
going for your own good. Good-bye, my child. You will come home in the
holidays, and be a better boy. '

'Clara! ' Miss Murdstone repeated.

'Certainly, my dear Jane,' replied my mother, who was holding me. 'I
forgive you, my dear boy. God bless you! '

'Clara! ' Miss Murdstone repeated.

Miss Murdstone was good enough to take me out to the cart, and to say on
the way that she hoped I would repent, before I came to a bad end; and
then I got into the cart, and the lazy horse walked off with it.



CHAPTER 5. I AM SENT AWAY FROM HOME


We might have gone about half a mile, and my pocket-handkerchief 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 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 a 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 that were rolling about, and treasured it as a
keepsake for a long time.

The carrier looked at me, as if to inquire if she were coming back. I
shook my head, and said I thought not. 'Then come up,' said the carrier
to the lazy horse; who came up accordingly.

Having by this time cried as much as I possibly could, I began to think
it was of no use crying any more, especially as neither Roderick Random,
nor that Captain in the Royal British Navy, had ever cried, that I
could remember, in trying situations. The carrier, seeing me in this
resolution, proposed that my pocket-handkerchief should be spread upon
the horse's back to dry. I thanked him, and assented; and particularly
small it looked, under those circumstances.

I had now leisure to examine the purse. It was a stiff leather purse,
with a snap, and had three bright shillings in it, which Peggotty had
evidently polished up with whitening, for my greater delight. But its
most precious contents were two half-crowns folded together in a bit
of paper, on which was written, in my mother's hand, 'For Davy. With my
love. ' I was so overcome by this, that I asked the carrier to be so good
as to reach me my pocket-handkerchief again; but he said he thought I
had better do without it, and I thought I really had, so I wiped my eyes
on my sleeve and stopped myself.

For good, too; though, in consequence of my previous emotions, I was
still occasionally seized with a stormy sob. After we had jogged on for
some little time, I asked the carrier if he was going all the way.

'All the way where? ' inquired the carrier.

'There,' I said.

'Where's there? ' inquired the carrier.

'Near London,' I said.

'Why that horse,' said the carrier, jerking the rein to point him out,
'would be deader than pork afore he got over half the ground. '

'Are you only going to Yarmouth then? ' I asked.

'That's about it,' said the carrier. 'And there I shall take you to the
stage-cutch, and the stage-cutch that'll take you to--wherever it is. '

As this was a great deal for the carrier (whose name was Mr. Barkis)
to say--he being, as I observed in a former chapter, of a phlegmatic
temperament, and not at all conversational--I offered him a cake as a
mark of attention, which he ate at one gulp, exactly like an elephant,
and which made no more impression on his big face than it would have
done on an elephant's.

'Did SHE make 'em, now? ' said Mr. Barkis, always leaning forward, in his
slouching way, on the footboard of the cart with an arm on each knee.

'Peggotty, do you mean, sir? '

'Ah! ' said Mr. Barkis. 'Her. '

'Yes. She makes all our pastry, and does all our cooking. '

'Do she though? ' said Mr. Barkis. He made up his mouth as if to whistle,
but he didn't whistle. He sat looking at the horse's ears, as if he saw
something new there; and sat so, for a considerable time. By and by, he
said:

'No sweethearts, I b'lieve? '

'Sweetmeats did you say, Mr. Barkis? ' For I thought he wanted
something else to eat, and had pointedly alluded to that description of
refreshment.

'Hearts,' said Mr. Barkis. 'Sweet hearts; no person walks with her! '

'With Peggotty? '

'Ah! ' he said. 'Her. '

'Oh, no. She never had a sweetheart. '

'Didn't she, though! ' said Mr. Barkis.

Again he made up his mouth to whistle, and again he didn't whistle, but
sat looking at the horse's ears.

'So she makes,' said Mr. Barkis, after a long interval of reflection,
'all the apple parsties, and doos all the cooking, do she? '

I replied that such was the fact.

'Well. I'll tell you what,' said Mr. Barkis. 'P'raps you might be
writin' to her? '

'I shall certainly write to her,' I rejoined.

'Ah! ' he said, slowly turning his eyes towards me. 'Well! If you was
writin' to her, p'raps you'd recollect to say that Barkis was willin';
would you? '

'That Barkis is willing,' I repeated, innocently. 'Is that all the
message? '

'Ye-es,' he said, considering. 'Ye-es. Barkis is willin'. '

'But you will be at Blunderstone again tomorrow, Mr. Barkis,' I said,
faltering a little at the idea of my being far away from it then, and
could give your own message so much better. '

As he repudiated this suggestion, however, with a jerk of his head,
and once more confirmed his previous request by saying, with profound
gravity, 'Barkis is willin'. That's the message,' I readily undertook
its transmission. While I was waiting for the coach in the hotel
at Yarmouth that very afternoon, I procured a sheet of paper and
an inkstand, and wrote a note to Peggotty, which ran thus: 'My dear
Peggotty. I have come here safe. Barkis is willing. My love to mama.
Yours affectionately. P. S. He says he particularly wants you to
know--BARKIS IS WILLING. '

When I had taken this commission on myself prospectively, Mr. Barkis
relapsed into perfect silence; and I, feeling quite worn out by all that
had happened lately, lay down on a sack in the cart and fell asleep. I
slept soundly until we got to Yarmouth; which was so entirely new
and strange to me in the inn-yard to which we drove, that I at once
abandoned a latent hope I had had of meeting with some of Mr. Peggotty's
family there, perhaps even with little Em'ly herself.

The coach was in the yard, shining very much all over, but without any
horses to it as yet; and it looked in that state as if nothing was
more unlikely than its ever going to London. I was thinking this, and
wondering what would ultimately become of my box, which Mr. Barkis had
put down on the yard-pavement by the pole (he having driven up the yard
to turn his cart), and also what would ultimately become of me, when a
lady looked out of a bow-window where some fowls and joints of meat were
hanging up, and said:

'Is that the little gentleman from Blunderstone? '

'Yes, ma'am,' I said.

'What name? ' inquired the lady.

'Copperfield, ma'am,' I said.
'That won't do,' returned the lady. 'Nobody's dinner is paid for here,
in that name. '

'Is it Murdstone, ma'am? ' I said.

'If you're Master Murdstone,' said the lady, 'why do you go and give
another name, first? '

I explained to the lady how it was, who than rang a bell, and called
out, 'William! show the coffee-room! ' upon which a waiter came running
out of a kitchen on the opposite side of the yard to show it, and seemed
a good deal surprised when he was only to show it to me.

It was a large long room with some large maps in it. I doubt if I could
have felt much stranger if the maps had been real foreign countries, and
I cast away in the middle of them. I felt it was taking a liberty to
sit down, with my cap in my hand, on the corner of the chair nearest the
door; and when the waiter laid a cloth on purpose for me, and put a set
of castors on it, I think I must have turned red all over with modesty.

He brought me some chops, and vegetables, and took the covers off in
such a bouncing manner that I was afraid I must have given him some
offence. But he greatly relieved my mind by putting a chair for me at
the table, and saying, very affably, 'Now, six-foot! come on! '

I thanked him, and took my seat at the board; but found it extremely
difficult to handle my knife and fork with anything like dexterity,
or to avoid splashing myself with the gravy, while he was standing
opposite, staring so hard, and making me blush in the most dreadful
manner every time I caught his eye. After watching me into the second
chop, he said:

'There's half a pint of ale for you. Will you have it now? '

I thanked him and said, 'Yes. ' Upon which he poured it out of a jug
into a large tumbler, and held it up against the light, and made it look
beautiful.

'My eye! ' he said. 'It seems a good deal, don't it? '

'It does seem a good deal,' I answered with a smile. For it was quite
delightful to me, to find him so pleasant. He was a twinkling-eyed,
pimple-faced man, with his hair standing upright all over his head; and
as he stood with one arm a-kimbo, holding up the glass to the light with
the other hand, he looked quite friendly.

'There was a gentleman here, yesterday,' he said--'a stout gentleman, by
the name of Topsawyer--perhaps you know him? '

'No,' I said, 'I don't think--'

'In breeches and gaiters, broad-brimmed hat, grey coat, speckled
choker,' said the waiter.

'No,' I said bashfully, 'I haven't the pleasure--'

'He came in here,' said the waiter, looking at the light through the
tumbler, 'ordered a glass of this ale--WOULD order it--I told him
not--drank it, and fell dead. It was too old for him. It oughtn't to be
drawn; that's the fact. '

I was very much shocked to hear of this melancholy accident, and said I
thought I had better have some water.

'Why you see,' said the waiter, still looking at the light through the
tumbler, with one of his eyes shut up, 'our people don't like things
being ordered and left. It offends 'em. But I'll drink it, if you like.
I'm used to it, and use is everything. I don't think it'll hurt me, if I
throw my head back, and take it off quick. Shall I? '

I replied that he would much oblige me by drinking it, if he thought
he could do it safely, but by no means otherwise. When he did throw his
head back, and take it off quick, I had a horrible fear, I confess,
of seeing him meet the fate of the lamented Mr. Topsawyer, and fall
lifeless on the carpet. But it didn't hurt him. On the contrary, I
thought he seemed the fresher for it.

'What have we got here? ' he said, putting a fork into my dish. 'Not
chops? '

'Chops,' I said.

'Lord bless my soul! ' he exclaimed, 'I didn't know they were chops. Why,
a chop's the very thing to take off the bad effects of that beer! Ain't
it lucky? '

So he took a chop by the bone in one hand, and a potato in the other,
and ate away with a very good appetite, to my extreme satisfaction.
He afterwards took another chop, and another potato; and after that,
another chop and another potato. When we had done, he brought me a
pudding, and having set it before me, seemed to ruminate, and to become
absent in his mind for some moments.

'How's the pie? ' he said, rousing himself.

'It's a pudding,' I made answer.

'Pudding! ' he exclaimed. 'Why, bless me, so it is! What! ' looking at it
nearer. 'You don't mean to say it's a batter-pudding! '

'Yes, it is indeed. '

'Why, a batter-pudding,' he said, taking up a table-spoon, 'is my
favourite pudding! Ain't that lucky? Come on, little 'un, and let's see
who'll get most. '

The waiter certainly got most. He entreated me more than once to come in
and win, but what with his table-spoon to my tea-spoon, his dispatch to
my dispatch, and his appetite to my appetite, I was left far behind at
the first mouthful, and had no chance with him. I never saw anyone enjoy
a pudding so much, I think; and he laughed, when it was all gone, as if
his enjoyment of it lasted still.

Finding him so very friendly and companionable, it was then that I asked
for the 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.

'That's just his age,' he said. 'He was eight years and six months old
when they broke his first rib; eight years and eight months old when
they broke his second, and did for him. '

I could not disguise from myself, or from the waiter, that this was an
uncomfortable coincidence, and inquired how it was done. His answer was
not cheering to my spirits, for it consisted of two dismal words, 'With
whopping. '

The blowing of the coach-horn in the yard was a seasonable diversion,
which made me get up and hesitatingly inquire, in the mingled pride and
diffidence of having a purse (which I took out of my pocket), if there
were anything to pay.

'There's a sheet of letter-paper,' he returned. 'Did you ever buy a
sheet of letter-paper? '

I could not remember that I ever had.

'It's dear,' he said, 'on account of the duty. Threepence. That's
the way we're taxed in this country. There's nothing else, except the
waiter. Never mind the ink. I lose by that. '

'What should you--what should I--how much ought I to--what would it be
right to pay the waiter, if you please? ' I stammered, blushing.

'If I hadn't a family, and that family hadn't the cowpock,' said the
waiter, 'I wouldn't take a sixpence. If I didn't support a aged pairint,
and a lovely sister,'--here the waiter was greatly agitated--'I wouldn't
take a farthing. If I had a good place, and was treated well here, I
should beg acceptance of a trifle, instead of taking of it. But I live
on broken wittles--and I sleep on the coals'--here the waiter burst into
tears.

I was very much concerned for his misfortunes, and felt that any
recognition short of ninepence would be mere brutality and hardness of
heart. Therefore I gave him one of my three bright shillings, which he
received with much humility and veneration, and spun up with his thumb,
directly afterwards, to try the goodness of.

It was a little disconcerting to me, to find, when I was being helped
up behind the coach, that I was supposed to have eaten all the dinner
without any assistance. I discovered this, from overhearing the lady in
the bow-window say to the guard, 'Take care of that child, George, or
he'll burst! ' and from observing that the women-servants who were about
the place came out to look and giggle at me as a young phenomenon. My
unfortunate friend the waiter, who had quite recovered his spirits, did
not appear to be disturbed by this, but joined in the general admiration
without being at all confused. If I had any doubt of him, I suppose
this half awakened it; but I am inclined to believe that with the simple
confidence of a child, and the natural reliance of a child upon superior
years (qualities I am very sorry any children should prematurely change
for worldly wisdom), I had no serious mistrust of him on the whole, even
then.

I felt it rather hard, I must own, to be made, without deserving it, the
subject of jokes between the coachman and guard as to the coach drawing
heavy behind, on account of my sitting there, and as to the greater
expediency of my travelling by waggon. The story of my supposed appetite
getting wind among the outside passengers, they were merry upon it
likewise; and asked me whether I was going to be paid for, at school,
as two brothers or three, and whether I was contracted for, or went upon
the regular terms; with other pleasant questions. But the worst of
it was, that I knew I should be ashamed to eat anything, when an
opportunity offered, and that, after a rather light dinner, I should
remain hungry all night--for I had left my cakes behind, at the hotel,
in my hurry. My apprehensions were realized. When we stopped for supper
I couldn't muster courage to take any, though I should have liked it
very much, but sat by the fire and said I didn't want anything. This did
not save me from more jokes, either; for a husky-voiced gentleman with
a rough face, who had been eating out of a sandwich-box nearly all the
way, except when he had been drinking out of a bottle, said I was like
a boa-constrictor who took enough at one meal to last him a long time;
after which, he actually brought a rash out upon himself with boiled
beef.

We had started from Yarmouth at three o'clock in the afternoon, and we
were due in London about eight next morning. It was Mid-summer weather,
and the evening was very pleasant. When we passed through a village, I
pictured to myself what the insides of the houses were like, and what
the inhabitants were about; and when boys came running after us, and
got up behind and swung there for a little way, I wondered whether their
fathers were alive, and whether they were happy at home. I had plenty to
think of, therefore, besides my mind running continually on the kind
of place I was going to--which was an awful speculation. Sometimes, I
remember, I resigned myself to thoughts of home and Peggotty; and to
endeavouring, in a confused blind way, to recall how I had felt, and
what sort of boy I used to be, before I bit Mr. Murdstone: which I
couldn't satisfy myself about by any means, I seemed to have bitten him
in such a remote antiquity.

The night was not so pleasant as the evening, for it got chilly; and
being put between two gentlemen (the rough-faced one and another) to
prevent my tumbling off the coach, I was nearly smothered by their
falling asleep, and completely blocking me up. They squeezed me so hard
sometimes, that I could not help crying out, 'Oh! If you please! '--which
they didn't like at all, because it woke them. Opposite me was an
elderly lady in a great fur cloak, who looked in the dark more like a
haystack than a lady, she was wrapped up to such a degree. This lady had
a basket with her, and she hadn't known what to do with it, for a long
time, until she found that on account of my legs being short, it could
go underneath me. It cramped and hurt me so, that it made me perfectly
miserable; but if I moved in the least, and made a glass that was in the
basket rattle against something else (as it was sure to do), she gave
me the cruellest poke with her foot, and said, 'Come, don't YOU fidget.
YOUR bones are young enough, I'm sure! '

At last the sun rose, and then my companions seemed to sleep easier.
The difficulties under which they had laboured all night, and which had
found utterance in the most terrific gasps and snorts, are not to be
conceived. As the sun got higher, their sleep became lighter, and so
they gradually one by one awoke. I recollect being very much surprised
by the feint everybody made, then, of not having been to sleep at all,
and by the uncommon indignation with which everyone repelled the
charge. I labour under the same kind of astonishment to this day, having
invariably observed that of all human weaknesses, the one to which our
common nature is the least disposed to confess (I cannot imagine why) is
the weakness of having gone to sleep in a coach.

What an amazing place London was to me when I saw it in the distance,
and how I believed all the adventures of all my favourite heroes to be
constantly enacting and re-enacting there, and how I vaguely made it
out in my own mind to be fuller of wonders and wickedness than all the
cities of the earth, I need not stop here to relate. We approached it by
degrees, and got, in due time, to the inn in the Whitechapel district,
for which we were bound. I forget whether it was the Blue Bull, or the
Blue Boar; but I know it was the Blue Something, and that its likeness
was painted up on the back of the coach.

The guard's eye lighted on me as he was getting down, and he said at the
booking-office door:

'Is there anybody here for a yoongster booked in the name of Murdstone,
from Bloonderstone, Sooffolk, to be left till called for? '

Nobody answered.

'Try Copperfield, if you please, sir,' said I, looking helplessly down.

'Is there anybody here for a yoongster, booked in the name of Murdstone,
from Bloonderstone, Sooffolk, but owning to the name of Copperfield, to
be left till called for? ' said the guard. 'Come! IS there anybody? '

No. There was nobody. I looked anxiously around; but the inquiry made no
impression on any of the bystanders, if I except a man in gaiters, with
one eye, who suggested that they had better put a brass collar round my
neck, and tie me up in the stable.

A ladder was brought, and I got down after the lady, who was like a
haystack: not daring to stir, until her basket was removed. The coach
was clear of passengers by that time, the luggage was very soon cleared
out, the horses had been taken out before the luggage, and now the coach
itself was wheeled and backed off by some hostlers, out of the way.
Still, nobody appeared, to claim the dusty youngster from Blunderstone,
Suffolk.

More solitary than Robinson Crusoe, who had nobody to look at him
and see that he was solitary, I went into the booking-office, and, by
invitation of the clerk on duty, passed behind the counter, and sat down
on the scale at which they weighed the luggage. Here, as I sat looking
at the parcels, packages, and books, and inhaling the smell of stables
(ever since associated with that morning), a procession of most
tremendous considerations began to march through my mind. Supposing
nobody should ever fetch me, how long would they consent to keep me
there? Would they keep me long enough to spend seven shillings? Should I
sleep at night in one of those wooden bins, with the other luggage,
and wash myself at the pump in the yard in the morning; or should I
be turned out every night, and expected to come again to be left till
called for, when the office opened next day? Supposing there was no
mistake in the case, and Mr. Murdstone had devised this plan to get rid
of me, what should I do? If they allowed me to remain there until my
seven shillings were spent, I couldn't hope to remain there when I began
to starve. That would obviously be inconvenient and unpleasant to the
customers, besides entailing on the Blue Whatever-it-was, the risk of
funeral expenses. If I started off at once, and tried to walk back home,
how could I ever find my way, how could I ever hope to walk so far, how
could I make sure of anyone but Peggotty, even if I got back? If I
found out the nearest proper authorities, and offered myself to go for a
soldier, or a sailor, I was such a little fellow that it was most likely
they wouldn't take me in. These thoughts, and a hundred other such
thoughts, turned me burning hot, and made me giddy with apprehension and
dismay. I was in the height of my fever when a man entered and whispered
to the clerk, who presently slanted me off the scale, and pushed me over
to him, as if I were weighed, bought, delivered, and paid for.

As I went out of the office, hand in hand with this new acquaintance,
I stole a look at him. He was a gaunt, sallow young man, with hollow
cheeks, and a chin almost as black as Mr. Murdstone's; but there the
likeness ended, for his whiskers were shaved off, and his hair, instead
of being glossy, was rusty and dry. He was dressed in a suit of black
clothes which were rather rusty and dry too, and rather short in the
sleeves and legs; and he had a white neck-kerchief on, that was not
over-clean. I did not, and do not, suppose that this neck-kerchief was
all the linen he wore, but it was all he showed or gave any hint of.

'You're the new boy? ' he said. 'Yes, sir,' I said.

I supposed I was. I didn't know.

'I'm one of the masters at Salem House,' he said.

I made him a bow and felt very much overawed. I was so ashamed to allude
to a commonplace thing like my box, to a scholar and a master at Salem
House, that we had gone some little distance from the yard before I had
the hardihood to mention it. We turned back, on my humbly insinuating
that it might be useful to me hereafter; and he told the clerk that the
carrier had instructions to call for it at noon.

'If you please, sir,' I said, when we had accomplished about the same
distance as before, 'is it far? '

'It's down by Blackheath,' he said.

'Is that far, sir? ' I diffidently asked.

'It's a good step,' he said. 'We shall go by the stage-coach. It's about
six miles. '

I was so faint and tired, that the idea of holding out for six miles
more, was too much for me. I took heart to tell him that I had had
nothing all night, and that if he would allow me to buy something to
eat, I should be very much obliged to him. He appeared surprised at
this--I see him stop and look at me now--and after considering for a few
moments, said he wanted to call on an old person who lived not far off,
and that the best way would be for me to buy some bread, or whatever I
liked best that was wholesome, and make my breakfast at her house, where
we could get some milk.

Accordingly we looked in at a baker's window, and after I had made a
series of proposals to buy everything that was bilious in the shop, and
he had rejected them one by one, we decided in favour of a nice little
loaf of brown bread, which cost me threepence. Then, at a grocer's shop,
we bought an egg and a slice of streaky bacon; which still left what
I thought a good deal of change, out of the second of the bright
shillings, and made me consider London a very cheap place. These
provisions laid in, we went on through a great noise and uproar that
confused my weary head beyond description, and over a bridge which, no
doubt, was London Bridge (indeed I think he told me so, but I was half
asleep), until we came to the poor person's house, which was a part of
some alms-houses, as I knew by their look, and by an inscription on a
stone over the gate which said they were established for twenty-five
poor women.

The Master at Salem House lifted the latch of one of a number of little
black doors that were all alike, and had each a little diamond-paned
window on one side, and another little diamond--paned window above; and
we went into the little house of one of these poor old women, who was
blowing a fire to make a little saucepan boil. On seeing the master
enter, the old woman stopped with the bellows on her knee, and said
something that I thought sounded like 'My Charley! ' but on seeing me
come in too, she got up, and rubbing her hands made a confused sort of
half curtsey.

'Can you cook this young gentleman's breakfast for him, if you please? '
said the Master at Salem House.

'Can I? ' said the old woman. 'Yes can I, sure! '

'How's Mrs. Fibbitson today? ' said the Master, looking at another old
woman in a large chair by the fire, who was such a bundle of clothes
that I feel grateful to this hour for not having sat upon her by
mistake.