Miss Trotwood, the young woman told me
to follow her. I needed no second permission, though by this time my legs
shook under me. Soon we came to a neat little cottage with cheerful
bow-windows, in front of it a gravelled court, full of flowers.

"This is Miss Trotwood's," said the young woman, and then she hurried in,
and left me standing at the gate. My shoes were by this time in a woeful
condition, my hat was crushed and bent, my shirt and trousers stained and
torn, my hair had known no comb or brush since I left London, my face,
neck, and hands, from unaccustomed exposure, were burnt to a berry-brown.
From head to foot I was powdered with dust. In this plight I waited to
introduce myself to my formidable aunt.

As I waited, there came out of the house a lady with a handkerchief tied
over her cap, a pair of gardening gloves on her hands, and carrying a
great knife. I knew her immediately, for she stalked out of the house
exactly as my mother had so often described her stalking up our garden at
home.

"Go away!" said Miss Betsey, shaking her head, and waving her knife. "Go
along! No boys here!"

I watched her, with my heart at my lips, as she stopped to dig up a root.
Then I went up and touched her.

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

She started, and looked up.

"If you please, aunt."

"Eh?" exclaimed Miss Betsey, in a tone of amazement I have never heard
approached.

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

"Oh, Lord!" said my aunt. And sat down flat 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 way
all at once, and I broke into a passion of crying.

My aunt sat on the gravel, staring at me, until I began to cry, when she
got up in a great 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 some of 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. Then she put me on a sofa with a shawl
under my head, and