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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.
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