"Oh, Edward, I'm sorry," my mother replied, looking embarrassed and hanging her head like a guilty child.

"You must be very careful today, David," he said with his unpleasant smile, holding the stick in both hands. I knew what would happen then. A terrible fear took hold of me, and all that I had learnt disappeared immediately from my memory, so that I could not answer any of my mother's questions. Mr Murdstone got up from his chair.

I was very unhappy during this time. Mr Murdstone insisted on my studying, and so my mother gave me lessons. In the past she and I had enjoyed our studies together, and she had taught me a lot in her gentle way. But now both Mr and Miss Murdstone were present during my lessons, and somehow I could not concentrate or remember what I had learnt. My poor mother was very sympathetic, and tried to encourage me, sometimes even whispering the answer to me. But the Murdstones had sharp ears.

"Clara, my love!" Mr Murdstone used to say crossly."Remember! Be firm! You're making the boy's character worse by helping him like that!"

One morning when I arrived in the sitting-room as usual for my lesson, I saw that Mr Murdstone had a thin stick in his hand. I could not take my eyes off it.

But he did not listen to me. In my bedroom, he held my arms and started hitting me with the stick. I managed to get hold of his hand, and bit deep into it. He cried out angrily, and began to hit me as hard as he could. Above the noise of my screams, I could hear my mother and Peggotty crying outside the door. Then the next moment, he was gone. I heard him lock the door. And I was lying, sore and bleeding, on the floor. The whole house seemed suddenly very quiet.

I stayed there for a time, without moving. In the evening Miss Murdstone brought me some bread and milk, which she left on the floor beside me, frowning angrily at me as she went out. I was kept locked in that room for five days and nights, and saw nobody except Miss Murdstone, who brought me food but never spoke to me. To a small boy, the five days seemed like years, and I can still remember how frightened and guilty I felt. But during the fifth night I heard a strange noise at the key-hole. It was Peggotty, trying to give me a message.

"Well David," he said heavily, "I think you've worried your mother enough today. We'll go upstairs, boy. Come," and he picked up the stick. I heard my mother crying as we went upstairs. "Please, Mr Murdstone!" I cried. "Don't beat me! I've tried to learn, really I have, sir!"

"Master David, my dear," she whispered, sobbing, "they are going to send you away to boarding school! Tomorrow!"

"Thank you, dear Peggotty!" I whispered back, tears rolling down my face. "Will you write to your brother too, and Ham, and little Emily, and tell them I'm not as bad as the Murdstones think? And send my love to them, especially little Emily?"

"No, my love. But don't forget, I'll take care of your mother. She needs her cross old Peggotty! I'll stay with her, although I hate these Murdstones. And remember, David, I love you as much as I love your mother, and more. And I'll Write to you."

"Oh Peggotty!" I cried. "Then I won't see you and mother very often!"

Peggotty promised to do what I asked. The next morning Miss Murdstone told me that because of my wickedness I was going away to school. She had already packed my case for me. My mother was only allowed to say a very quick goodbye to me, when the horse and cart arrived The driver put my case on the cart, and we drove slowly out of Blunderstone. I was still sobbing loudly when suddenly I saw Peggotty running after us on the road. The driver stopped and waited for her. With difficulty she climbed up onto the cart.

"Does she?" replied Mr Barkis with great interest. There was a long silence while he considered his next question.

"You mean Peggotty, sir? Yes, she does all our cooking."

"Here, Master David!" she cried breathlessly. "A little present from me and your dear mother! Take care of yourself, my dear!" She put a small purse and a paper bag into my hands, and held me so close to her fat body that I thought I would never breathe again. Then she jumped down and ran back along the road to the village.

As we continued our journey, I dried my tears and looked at what she had given me. The bag was full of Peggotty's special cakes, and in the purse were eight bright shilling coins. Thinking of my mother and Peggotty made me start crying again, but just then the driver, Mr Barkis, began to talk to me. He was a large, red-faced man, who clearly found conversation difficult.

"Did she make those cakes?" he asked slowly, having finished the one that I had offered him.

"Does she have a young man?" he asked. "You know, someone who wants to marry her?"

"Peggotty? A young man?" I repeated, surprised. "Oh no, she's never had any young men."

"Ah!" replied Mr Barkis, looking very pleased. Again he thought for a long time before speaking.

"Well," he said at last," perhaps if you write to her -- will you be writing to her? You could give her a message from me. You could say 'Barkis is willing'. Would you do that?"

After this conversation Mr Barkis was completely silent for the rest of the journey. When we arrived in Yarmouth, I bought paper at the hotel and wrote this letter to Peggotty:

My dear Peggotty, I have arrived safely in Yarmouth. Barkis is willing. Please give my love to mother. Yours, David P. S. He says it's important -- Barkis is willing.

"Barkis is willing," I repeated innocently, wondering what the message meant. "Yes, of course. But you could tell her yourself, Mr Barkis, when you return to Blunderstone tomorrow."

In Yarmouth I was put on the long-distance coach to London, and travelled all through the night. At the coach station in London I was collected by a teacher, Mr Mell, and taken to Salem House, the school which the Murdstones had chosen for me.

"No, no" he said, " no, you just give her the message. Remember, 'Barkis is willing'."

The school was a large old building with a dusty playground, surrounded by a high brick wall. It looked strangely deserted. I was very surprised to find that none of the boys were there, and was told that they were all on holiday, and that I had been sent there during the holidays as a punishment for my wickedness. The headmaster and teachers were on holiday too, all except for Mr Mell, who had to look after me.

I spent a whole month in that miserable place, doing my lessons in the dirty, empty classroom, which smelt of old food and unwashed boys. Every evening I had to eat my supper with Mr Mell, and then go straight to bed. The worst thing was the sign I had to wear round my neck. It said: BE CAREFUL! HE BITES. I was only allowed to take it off when I went to bed.

Although I was extremely lonely and unhappy at this time, I was not looking forward to meeting all the other boys. I felt sure they would laugh at me and especially at the sign I was forced to wear. But one day Mr Mell told me that the headmaster, Mr Creakle, had returned, and wanted to see me. So I went, trembling, to his part of the house.

"Ah, but you soon will! Oh yes, I have a strong character too, you'll see!" He banged his hand hard on the table.

"Not yet, sir," I answered, tears of pain in my eyes.

"So, this is the boy who bites, is it?" he asked unpleasantly. "I know your stepfather, boy. He's a man of strong character, he is. He knows me, and I know him. Do you know me? Answer me, boy!" He pulled violently at my ear.

I realized at once that Mr Creakle lived much more comfortably than the boys or the teachers. He was a small, fat man with a purple nose, who was sitting in an armchair with a bottle and a glass in front of him.

I was very frightened, but I made myself ask the question I had been considering for a whole month. "Please, sir, I'm very sorry for what I did to Mr Murdstone. Could -- could I take this sign off, before the other boys see it…"

Mr Creakle gave a sudden, terrible shout and jumped out of his chair. I did not wait to see whether he was going to hit me, but ran out of his room and hid in my bed for the next hour.

However, the boys were not as cruel to me as I had feared. I made a friend almost immediately, a boy called Tommy Traddles, who was known to be the unluckiest boy in the school. I was also noticed, and even smiled on, by the great James Steerforth, one of the oldest boys, at least six years older than me. He was a handsome, intelligent, curly-haired young man, who had become an important figure at the school, with great influence over the younger boys.

"How much money have you got, Copperfield?" he asked me.

"Eight shillings, Steerforth," I answered, remembering the present my mother and Peggotty had given me.

"You'd better give it to me. I'll take care of it for you," he offered in a friendly way.

"Ye-es, that's very kind of you," I said, although I was a little worried that all my money would disappear.

"Perhaps you'd like to spend some of it now?" he suggested, smiling. "A bottle of wine, a tin of biscuits, a few cakes, that sort of thing? I can go out whenever I like, so I can buy it for you."

I opened Peggotty's purse and turned it upside-down into his hand.

"You haven't got a sister, have you?" he asked sleepily.

"It's very kind of you," I replied gratefully.

"No, I haven't," I answered. "What a pity! If you had one, I'm sure she'd be a pretty, bright-eyed little girl. I would have liked to meet her."

When we went upstairs to bed, I realized that all my money had been spent, as eight shillings' worth of food and drink was laid out on my bed in the moonlight. Of course I did not want to eat and drink it all by myself, so I invited Steerforth and the others to help themselves. The boys were very willing, and we spent a pleasant evening, sitting on our beds, whispering to each other. I discovered that the boys all hated Salem House, which they considered one of the worst schools in the country. They especially hated Mr Creakle, who was in the habit of beating them regularly with a heavy stick which he carried with him at all times. The only boy he dared not beat was Steerforth. I admired Steerforth even more when I heard this.

When we were all too tired to stay awake, Steerforth got up to go. "Goodnight, young Copperfield," he said, putting a hand on my head. "I'll take care of you."

However, my home, even with the Murdstones there, seemed a much pleasanter place than school, and I was glad when the Christmas holidays arrived, and I was allowed to return to Blunderstone. I was a little surprised to find that my mother had a new baby, and I could see at once that she was not well. She looked tired and worried, and very thin. But she and Peggotty were delighted to see me, although they dared not show it if the Murdstones were present. My stepfather and his sister seemed to hate me even more than before, if that were possible, and they made my life quite miserable whenever they could. In fact, I was almost pleased when it was time to return to school, and see Traddles and Steerforth again.

I stayed at Salem House for three more months. Although one or two of the teachers, like Mr Mell, were kind to us boys, and tried to teach us properly, we were too afraid of Mr Creakle and his stick to concentrate on our studies. But Tommy Traddles and I cheered each other up if we were beaten, and I was lucky enough to be friendly with the great Steerforth, in spite of the difference in our ages.

I thought of him a lot that night, with his laughing, handsome face, and his careless, confident manner. I could never have imagined what a dark shadow he would throw over the lives of people who were dear to me.

As the cart drove away, I remember my mother standing outside our house, with her baby in her arms, smiling sadly at me. That was the last time I saw her, and that is how I shall always remember her.