第 17 页

amateur way, and without any book (he seemed to me to know everything by

heart), took some of his classes until a new master was found. The new

master came from a grammar school; and before he entered on his duties,

dined in the parlour one day, to be introduced to Steerforth. Steerforth

approved of him highly, and told us he was a Brick. Without exactly

understanding what learned distinction was meant by this, I respected

him greatly for it, and had no doubt whatever of his superior knowledge:

though he never took the pains with me--not that I was anybody--that Mr.

Mell had taken.

There was only one other event in this half-year, out of the daily

school-life, that made an impression upon me which still survives. It

survives for many reasons.

One afternoon, when we were all harassed into a state of dire confusion,

and Mr. Creakle was laying about him dreadfully, Tungay came in, and

called out in his usual strong way: ‘Visitors for Copperfield!’

A few words were interchanged between him and Mr. Creakle, as, who the

visitors were, and what room they were to be shown into; and then I, who

had, according to custom, stood up on the announcement being made, and

felt quite faint with astonishment, was told to go by the back stairs

and get a clean frill on, before I repaired to the dining-room. These

orders I obeyed, in such a flutter and hurry of my young spirits as

I had never known before; and when I got to the parlour door, and the

thought came into my head that it might be my mother--I had only thought

of Mr. or Miss Murdstone until then--I drew back my hand from the lock,

and stopped to have a sob before I went in.

At first I saw nobody; but feeling a pressure against the door, I looked

round it, and there, to my amazement, were Mr. Peggotty and Ham, ducking

at me with their hats, and squeezing one another against the wall. I

could not help laughing; but it was much more in the pleasure of seeing

them, than at the appearance they made. We shook hands in a very

cordial way; and I laughed and laughed, until I pulled out my

pocket-handkerchief and wiped my eyes.

Mr. Peggotty (who never shut his mouth once, I remember, during the

visit) showed great concern when he saw me do this, and nudged Ham to

say something.

‘Cheer up, Mas’r Davy bor’!’ said Ham, in his simpering way. ‘Why, how

you have growed!’

‘Am I grown?’ I said, drying my eyes. I was not crying at anything

in particular that I know of; but somehow it made me cry, to see old

friends.

‘Growed, Mas’r Davy bor’? Ain’t he growed!’ said Ham.

‘Ain’t he growed!’ said Mr. Peggotty.

They made me laugh again by laughing at each other, and then we all

three laughed until I was in danger of crying again.

‘Do you know how mama is, Mr. Peggotty?’ I said. ‘And how my dear, dear,

old Peggotty is?’

‘Oncommon,’ said Mr. Peggotty.

‘And little Em’ly, and Mrs. Gummidge?’

‘On--common,’ said Mr. Peggotty.

There was a silence. Mr. Peggotty, to relieve it, took two prodigious

lobsters, and an enormous crab, and a large canvas bag of shrimps, out

of his pockets, and piled them up in Ham’s arms.

‘You see,’ said Mr. Peggotty, ‘knowing as you was partial to a little

relish with your wittles when you was along with us, we took the

liberty. The old Mawther biled ‘em, she did. Mrs. Gummidge biled ‘em.

Yes,’ said Mr. Peggotty, slowly, who I thought appeared to stick to the

subject on account of having no other subject ready, ‘Mrs. Gummidge, I

do assure you, she biled ‘em.’

I expressed my thanks; and Mr. Peggotty, after looking at Ham, who stood

smiling sheepishly over the shellfish, without making any attempt to

help him, said:

‘We come, you see, the wind and tide making in our favour, in one of our

Yarmouth lugs to Gravesen’. My sister she wrote to me the name of this

here place, and wrote to me as if ever I chanced to come to Gravesen’,

I was to come over and inquire for Mas’r Davy and give her dooty,

humbly wishing him well and reporting of the fam’ly as they was oncommon

toe-be-sure. Little Em’ly, you see, she’ll write to my sister when I go

back, as I see you and as you was similarly oncommon, and so we make it

quite a merry-go-rounder.’

I was obliged to consider a little before I understood what Mr. Peggotty

meant by this figure, expressive of a complete circle of intelligence. I

then thanked him heartily; and said, with a consciousness of reddening,

that I supposed little Em’ly was altered too, since we used to pick up

shells and pebbles on the beach?

‘She’s getting to be a woman, that’s wot she’s getting to be,’ said Mr.

Peggotty. ‘Ask HIM.’ He meant Ham, who beamed with delight and assent

over the bag of shrimps.

‘Her pretty face!’ said Mr. Peggotty, with his own shining like a light.

‘Her learning!’ said Ham.

‘Her writing!’ said Mr. Peggotty. ‘Why it’s as black as jet! And so

large it is, you might see it anywheres.’

It was perfectly delightful to behold with what enthusiasm Mr. Peggotty

became inspired when he thought of his little favourite. He stands

before me again, his bluff hairy face irradiating with a joyful love and

pride, for which I can find no description. His honest eyes fire up, and

sparkle, as if their depths were stirred by something bright. His broad

chest heaves with pleasure. His strong loose hands clench themselves,

in his earnestness; and he emphasizes what he says with a right arm that

shows, in my pigmy view, like a sledge-hammer.

Ham was quite as earnest as he. I dare say they would have said much

more about her, if they had not been abashed by the unexpected coming in

of Steerforth, who, seeing me in a corner speaking with two strangers,

stopped in a song he was singing, and said: ‘I didn’t know you were

here, young Copperfield!’ (for it was not the usual visiting room) and

crossed by us on his way out.

I am not sure whether it was in the pride of having such a friend as

Steerforth, or in the desire to explain to him how I came to have such a

friend as Mr. Peggotty, that I called to him as he was going away. But I

said, modestly--Good Heaven, how it all comes back to me this long time

afterwards--!

‘Don’t go, Steerforth, if you please. These are two Yarmouth

boatmen--very kind, good people--who are relations of my nurse, and have

come from Gravesend to see me.’

‘Aye, aye?’ said Steerforth, returning. ‘I am glad to see them. How are

you both?’

There was an ease in his manner--a gay and light manner it was, but not

swaggering--which I still believe to have borne a kind of enchantment

with it. I still believe him, in virtue of this carriage, his animal

spirits, his delightful voice, his handsome face and figure, and, for

aught I know, of some inborn power of attraction besides (which I think

a few people possess), to have carried a spell with him to which it was

a natural weakness to yield, and which not many persons could withstand.

I could not but see how pleased they were with him, and how they seemed

to open their hearts to him in a moment.

‘You must let them know at home, if you please, Mr. Peggotty,’ I said,

‘when that letter is sent, that Mr. Steerforth is very kind to me, and

that I don’t know what I should ever do here without him.’

‘Nonsense!’ said Steerforth, laughing. ‘You mustn’t tell them anything

of the sort.’

‘And if Mr. Steerforth ever comes into Norfolk or Suffolk, Mr.

Peggotty,’ I said, ‘while I am there, you may depend upon it I shall

bring him to Yarmouth, if he will let me, to see your house. You never

saw such a good house, Steerforth. It’s made out of a boat!’

‘Made out of a boat, is it?’ said Steerforth. ‘It’s the right sort of a

house for such a thorough-built boatman.’

‘So ‘tis, sir, so ‘tis, sir,’ said Ham, grinning. ‘You’re right, young

gen’l’m’n! Mas’r Davy bor’, gen’l’m’n’s right. A thorough-built boatman!

Hor, hor! That’s what he is, too!’

Mr. Peggotty was no less pleased than his nephew, though his modesty

forbade him to claim a personal compliment so vociferously.

‘Well, sir,’ he said, bowing and chuckling, and tucking in the ends

of his neckerchief at his breast: ‘I thankee, sir, I thankee! I do my

endeavours in my line of life, sir.’

‘The best of men can do no more, Mr. Peggotty,’ said Steerforth. He had

got his name already.

‘I’ll pound it, it’s wot you do yourself, sir,’ said Mr. Peggotty,

shaking his head, ‘and wot you do well--right well! I thankee, sir. I’m

obleeged to you, sir, for your welcoming manner of me. I’m rough, sir,

but I’m ready--least ways, I hope I’m ready, you unnerstand. My house

ain’t much for to see, sir, but it’s hearty at your service if ever you

should come along with Mas’r Davy to see it. I’m a reg’lar Dodman,

I am,’ said Mr. Peggotty, by which he meant snail, and this was in

allusion to his being slow to go, for he had attempted to go after every

sentence, and had somehow or other come back again; ‘but I wish you both

well, and I wish you happy!’

Ham echoed this sentiment, and we parted with them in the heartiest

manner. I was almost tempted that evening to tell Steerforth about

pretty little Em’ly, but I was too timid of mentioning her name, and

too much afraid of his laughing at me. I remember that I thought a good

deal, and in an uneasy sort of way, about Mr. Peggotty having said that

she was getting on to be a woman; but I decided that was nonsense.

We transported the shellfish, or the ‘relish’ as Mr. Peggotty had

modestly called it, up into our room unobserved, and made a great supper

that evening. But Traddles couldn’t get happily out of it. He was too

unfortunate even to come through a supper like anybody else. He was

taken ill in the night--quite prostrate he was--in consequence of Crab;

and after being drugged with black draughts and blue pills, to an extent

which Demple (whose father was a doctor) said was enough to undermine

a horse’s constitution, received a caning and six chapters of Greek

Testament for refusing to confess.

The rest of the half-year is a jumble in my recollection of the daily

strife and struggle of our lives; of the waning summer and the changing

season; of the frosty mornings when we were rung out of bed, and the

cold, cold smell of the dark nights when we were rung into bed again; of

the evening schoolroom dimly lighted and indifferently warmed, and the

morning schoolroom which was nothing but a great shivering-machine; of

the alternation of boiled beef with roast beef, and boiled mutton with

roast mutton; of clods of bread-and-butter, dog’s-eared lesson-books,

cracked slates, tear-blotted copy-books, canings, rulerings,

hair-cuttings, rainy Sundays, suet-puddings, and a dirty atmosphere of

ink, surrounding all.

I well remember though, how the distant idea of the holidays, after

seeming for an immense time to be a stationary speck, began to come

towards us, and to grow and grow. How from counting months, we came to

weeks, and then to days; and how I then began to be afraid that I should

not be sent for and when I learnt from Steerforth that I had been sent

for, and was certainly to go home, had dim forebodings that I might

break my leg first. How the breaking-up day changed its place fast, at

last, from the week after next to next week, this week, the day after

tomorrow, tomorrow, today, tonight--when I was inside the Yarmouth mail,

and going home.

I had many a broken sleep inside the Yarmouth mail, and many an

incoherent dream of all these things. But when I awoke at intervals, the

ground outside the window was not the playground of Salem House, and the

sound in my ears was not the sound of Mr. Creakle giving it to Traddles,

but the sound of the coachman touching up the horses.

CHAPTER 8. MY HOLIDAYS. ESPECIALLY ONE HAPPY AFTERNOON

When we arrived before day at the inn where the mail stopped, which was

not the inn where my friend the waiter lived, I was shown up to a nice

little bedroom, with DOLPHIN painted on the door. Very cold I was, I

know, notwithstanding the hot tea they had given me before a large fire

downstairs; and very glad I was to turn into the Dolphin’s bed, pull the

Dolphin’s blankets round my head, and go to sleep.

Mr. Barkis the carrier was to call for me in the morning at nine

o’clock. I got up at eight, a little giddy from the shortness of my

night’s rest, and was ready for him before the appointed time. He

received me exactly as if not five minutes had elapsed since we were

last together, and I had only been into the hotel to get change for

sixpence, or something of that sort.

As soon as I and my box were in the cart, and the carrier seated, the

lazy horse walked away with us all at his accustomed pace.

‘You look very well, Mr. Barkis,’ I said, thinking he would like to know

it.

Mr. Barkis rubbed his cheek with his cuff, and then looked at his cuff

as if he expected to find some of the bloom upon it; but made no other

acknowledgement of the compliment.

‘I gave your message, Mr. Barkis,’ I said: ‘I wrote to Peggotty.’

‘Ah!’ said Mr. Barkis.

Mr. Barkis seemed gruff, and answered drily.

‘Wasn’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?’

‘No--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,