dog。’
‘Dog？’ he says。 ‘What dog？’
‘Isn’t it a dog； sir？’
‘Isn’t what a dog？’
‘That’s to be taken care of； sir； that bites。’
‘No； Copperfield；’ says he； gravely； ‘that’s not a dog。 That’s a
boy。 My instructions are； Copperfield； to put this placard on your
back。 I am sorry to make such a beginning with you； but I must do
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it。’ With that he took me down； and tied the placard； which was
neatly constructed for the purpose； on my shoulders like a
knapsack； and wherever I went； afterwards； I had the consolation
of carrying it。
What I suffered from that placard； nobody can imagine。
Whether it was possible for people to see me or not； I always
fancied that somebody was reading it。 It was no relief to turn
round and find nobody； for wherever my back was； there I
imagined somebody always to be。 That cruel man with the wooden
leg aggravated my sufferings。 He was in authority； and if he ever
saw me leaning against a tree； or a wall； or the house； he roared
out from his lodge door in a stupendous voice； ‘Hallo； you sir！ You
Copperfield！ Show that badge conspicuous； or I’ll report you！’ The
playground was a bare gravelled yard； open to all the back of the
house and the offices； and I knew that the servants read it； and the
butcher read it； and the baker read it； that everybody； in a word；
who came backwards and forwards to the house； of a morning
when I was ordered to walk there； read that I was to be taken care
of； for I bit； I recollect that I positively began to have a dread of
myself； as a kind of wild boy who did bite。
There was an old door in this playground； on which the boys
had a custom of carving their names。 It was completely covered
with such inscriptions。 In my dread of the end of the vacation and
their coming back； I could not read a boy’s name； without
inquiring in what tone and with what emphasis he would read；
‘Take care of him。 He bites。’ There was one boy—a certain J。
Steerforth—who cut his name very deep and very often； who； I
conceived； would read it in a rather strong voice； and afterwards
pull my hair。 There was another boy； one Tommy Traddles； who I
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dreaded would make game of it； and pretend to be dreadfully
frightened of me。 There was a third； George Demple； who I fancied
would sing it。 I have looked； a little shrinking creature； at that
door； until the owners of all the names—there were five…and…forty
of them in the school then； Mr。 Mell said—seemed to send me to
Coventry by general acclamation； and to cry out； each in his own
way； ‘Take care of him。 He bites！’
It was the same with the places at the desks and forms。 It was
the same with the groves of deserted bedsteads I peeped at； on my
way to； and when I was in； my own bed。 I remember dreaming
night after night； of being with my mother as she used to be； or of
going to a party at Mr。 Peggotty’s； or of travelling outside the
stage…coach； or of dining again with my unfortunate friend the
waiter； and in all these circumstances making people scream and
stare； by the unhappy disclosure that I had nothing on but my
little night…shirt； and that placard。
In the monotony of my life； and in my constant apprehension of
the re…opening of the school； it was such an insupportable
affliction！ I had long tasks every day to do with Mr。 Mell； but I did
them； there being no Mr。 and Miss Murdstone here； and got
through them without disgrace。 Before； and after them； I walked
about—supervised； as I have mentioned； by the man with the
wooden leg。 How vividly I call to mind the damp about the house；
the green cracked flagstones in the court； an old leaky water…butt；
and the discoloured trunks of some of the grim trees； which
seemed to have dripped more in the rain than other trees； and to
have blown less in the sun！ At one we dined； Mr。 Mell and I； at the
upper end of a long bare dining…room； full of deal tables； and
smelling of fat。 Then； we had more tasks until tea； which Mr。 Mell
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drank out of a blue teacup； and I out of a tin pot。 All day long； and
until seven or eight in the evening； Mr。 Mell； at his own detached
desk in the schoolroom； worked hard with pen； ink； ruler； books；
and writing…paper； making out the bills （as I found） for last half…
year。 When he had put up his things for the night he took out his
flute； and blew at it； until I almost thought he would gradually
blow his whole being into the large hole at the top； and ooze away
at the keys。
I picture my small self in the dimly…lighted rooms； sitting with
my head upon my hand； listening to the doleful performance of
Mr。 Mell； and conning tomorrow’s lessons。 I picture myself with
my books shut up； still listening to the doleful performance of Mr。
Mell； and listening through it to what used to be at home； and to
the blowing of the wind on Yarmouth flats； and feeling very sad
and solitary。 I picture myself going up to bed； among the unused
rooms； and sitting on my bed…side crying for a comfortable word
from Peggotty。 I picture myself coming downstairs in the morning；
and looking through a long ghastly gash of a staircase window at
the school…bell hanging on the top of an out…house with a
weathercock above it； and dreading the time when it shall ring J。
Steerforth and the rest to work： which is only second； in my
foreboding apprehensions； to the time when the man with the
wooden leg shall unlock the rusty gate to give admission to the
awful Mr。 Creakle。 I cannot think I was a very dangerous
character in any of these aspects； but in all of them I carried the
same warning on my back。
Mr。 Mell never said much to me； but he was never harsh to me。
I suppose we were company to each other； without talking。 I forgot
to mention that he would talk to himself sometimes； and grin； and
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clench his fist； and grind his teeth； and pull his hair in an
unaccountable manner。 But he had these peculiarities： and at first
they frightened me； though I soon got used to them。
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Chapter 6
I ENLARGE MY CIRCLE OF ACQUAINTANCE
Ihad led this life about a month； when the man with the
wooden leg began to stump about with a mop and a bucket of
water； from which I inferred that preparations were making
to receive Mr。 Creakle and the boys。 I was not mistaken； for the
mop came into the schoolroom before long； and turned out Mr。
Mell and me； who lived where we could； and got on how we could；
for some days； during which we were always in the way of two or
three young women； who had rarely shown themselves before； and
were so continually in the midst of dust that I sneezed almost as
much as if Salem House had been a great snuff…box。
One day I was informed by Mr。 Mell that Mr。 Creakle would be
home that evening。 In the evening； after tea； I heard that he was
come。 Before bedtime； I was fetched by the man with the wooden
leg to appear before him。
Mr。 Creakle’s part of the house was a good deal more
comfortable than ours； and he had a snug bit of garden that looked
pleasant after the dusty playground； which was such a desert in
miniature； that I thought no one but a camel； or a dromedary；
could have felt at home in it。 It seemed to me a bold thing even to
take notice that the passage looked comfortable； as I went on my
way； trembling； to Mr。 Creakle’s presence： which so abashed me；
when I was ushered into it； that I hardly saw Mrs。 Creakle or Miss
Creakle （who were both there； in the parlour）； or anything but Mr。
Creakle； a stout gentleman with a bunch of watch…chain and seals；
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in an arm…chair； with a tumbler and bottle beside him。
‘So！’ said Mr。 Creakle。 ‘This is the young gentleman whose
teeth are to be filed！ Turn him round。’
The wooden…legged man turned me about so as to exhibit the
placard； and having afforded time for a full survey of it； turned me
about again； with my face to Mr。 Creakle； and posted himself at
Mr。 Creakle’s side。 Mr。 Creakle’s face was fiery； and his eyes were
small； and deep in his head； he had thick veins in his forehead； a
little nose； and a large chin。 He was bald on the top of his head；
and had some thin wet…looking hair that was just turning grey；
brushed across each temple； so that the two sides interlaced on his
forehead。 But the circumstance about him which impressed me
most； was； that he had no voice； but spoke in a whisper。 The
exertion this cost him； or the consciousness of talking in that
feeble way； made his angry face so much more angry； and his thick
veins so much thicker； when he spoke； that I am not surprised； on
looking back； at this peculiarity striking me as his chief one。 ‘Now；’
said Mr。 Creakle。 ‘What’s the report of this boy？’
‘There’s nothing against him yet；’ returned the man with the
wooden leg。 ‘There has been no opportunity。’
I thought Mr。 Creakle was disappointed。 I thought Mrs。 and
Miss Creakle （at whom I now glanced for the first time； and who
were； both； thin and quiet） were not disappointed。
‘Come here； sir！’ said Mr。 Creakle； beckoning to me。
‘Come here！’ said the man with the wooden leg； repeating the
gesture。
‘I have the happiness of knowing your father…in…law；’ whispered
Mr。 Creakle； taking me by the ear； ‘and a worthy man he is； and a
man of a strong character。 He knows me； and I know him。 Do you
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know me？ Hey？’ said Mr。 Creakle； pinching my ear with ferocious
playfulness。
‘Not yet； sir；’ I said； flinching with the pain。
‘Not yet？ Hey？’ repeated Mr。 Creakle。 ‘But you will soon。 Hey？’
‘You will soon。 Hey？’ repeated the man with the wooden leg。 I
afterwards found that he generally acted； with his strong voice； as
Mr。 Creakle’s interpreter to the boy