One night, about a year after the escaped convicts had been caught, I was sitting by the kitchen fire, writing a letter to Joe. I didn't need to, because he was sitting right next to me, but I wanted to practise my writing. After an hour or two of hard work, I passed this letter to him.

I always knew I would be apprenticed to Joe as soon as I was old enough, and so I used to spend most of the day helping him in the forge. However, I also attended the village evening school, which was organized by an ancient relation of Mr Wopsle's. Her teaching mostly consisted of falling asleep while we children fought each other, but Mr Wopsle's young cousin, Biddy, tried to keep us under control and teach us to read, write and count. Mr Wopsle"examined"us every three months. In fact he did not ask us any questions at all, but read aloud from Shakespeare, waving his arms dramatically and enjoying the sound of his own voice.

"Pip, old boy!" cried Joe, opening his kind blue eyes very wide. "What a lot you've learnt! Here's a J and an O, that's for Joe, isn't it, Pip?"

"No, Pip. You see, my father drank a lot, and when he drank, he used to hit my mother, and me too, sometimes. So she and I ran away from him several times. And she used to say," Now, Joe, you can go to school. "But my father had such a good heart that he didn't want to be without us. So he always came to find us, and took us home, and hit us. So you see, Pip, I never learnt much."

I wondered whether I would have to teach Joe from the beginning, so I asked, "How do you write Gargery, Joe?"

"I don't write it at all," said Joe. "But, you know, I am fond of reading. Give me a good book or newspaper, a good fire and I ask no more. Well! When you come to a J and an O, how interesting reading is!"

"Didn't you ever go to school, Joe, when you were young?"

"But remember, Pip, my father had a good heart."

"Poor Joe!"

He let me become a blacksmith, which was his job too, only he never worked at it. I earned the money for the family, until he died. And listen to this, Pip, I wanted to put this on his gravestone:

I wondered about that, but said nothing.

"Did you invent that yourself, Joe?" I asked, surprised.

"Whatever the fault he had from the start, Remember, reader, he had a good heart."

"I did," said Joe proudly. "It came to me in a moment. From my own head. But, Pip, sad to say, there wasn't enough money for the gravestone. My poor mother needed it. In bad health, she was. She died soon after. Found peace at last. "Joe's blue eyes were watery." I was lonely then, and I met your sister. Now, Pip, "Joe looked firmly at me, because he knew I was not going to agree with him,"your sister is a fine woman!"

"So am I," said Joe. "I'm glad I think so. Very kind of her, bringing you up by hand. Such a tiny baby you were! So when I offered to marry your sister, I said, ' And bring the poor little child to live with us. There's room for him at the forge!'"

I could think of nothing better to say than "I'm glad you think so, Joe."

I put my arms round Joe's neck and cried into his shirt.

"Don't cry, old boy!" he said. "Always the best of friends, you and me!" As I dried my tears, he continued, "So here we are, Pip! Now if you teach me a bit (and I warn you now that I'm very stupid) Mrs Joe must never know. And why? Because she likes to be -- in charge -- you know -- giving the orders."

Just then we heard the sound of a horse on the road. Mrs Joe and Uncle Pumblechook were returning from market. The carriage arrived, and in a rush of cold air, they were in the kitchen.

"Joe," I asked, "why don't you ever rebel?"

"Now," said Mrs Joe, excitedly throwing off her cloak, "if this boy isn't grateful tonight, he never will be!"

"She's offering the boy a great opportunity," agreed Pumblechook. Trying to look grateful, I looked at Joe, making the word "She?" with my lips. He clearly did not know either.

"Well," said Joe, "to start with, your sister's clever. And I'm not. And another thing, and this is serious, old boy, when I think of my poor mother's hard life, I'm afraid of not behaving right to a woman. So I'd much rather seem a bit weak with Mrs Joe than shout at her, or hurt her, or hit her. I'm just sorry she scolds you as well, Pip, and hits you with the stick. I wish I could take all the scolding myself. But there it is, Pip."

"You were speaking of a she?" he said Politely to them.

"She is a she, I suppose," Mrs Joe replied crossly. "Unless you call Miss Havisham a he. And even you wouldn't do that."

I was washed from top to toe in Mrs Joe's usual violent manner, and handed over, in my tightest Sunday clothes, to Mr Pumblechook. In the carriage taking me into town, I cried a little. I had never been away from Joe before, and I had no idea what was going to happen to me at Miss Havisham's.

"There aren't any other Miss Havishams that I know of! She wants a boy to go and play there. She asked Uncle Pumblechook if he knew of anyone. And Uncle Pumblechook, thinking of us as he always does, suggested this boy. And what's more, Uncle Pumblechook, realizing that this boy's fortune may be made by going to Miss Havisham's, has offered to take him into town tonight in his carriage, and let him sleep in his own house, and deliver him tomorrow to Miss Havisham's. And just look!" she cried, catching hold of me. "Look at the dirt on this by!"

"The rich Miss Havisham who lives all alone in the big house in town?" asked Joe.

Mr Pumblechook seemed to agree with my sister that I should be punished as much as possible, even when eating, and so for breakfast next morning he gave me a large piece of bread with very little butter, and a cup of warm water with very little milk, and insisted on checking my learning.

"What's seven and thirteen, boy?" He continued testing me all through breakfast. "And nine? And eleven?"

So I was glad to arrive at Miss Havisham's house at about ten o'clock. It was a large house, made of old stone, and with iron bars on the windows. We rang the bell, and waited at the gate. Even then Mr Pumblechook said, "And fourteen?" but I pretended not to hear him. Then a young lady came to open the gate, and let me in. Mr Pumblechook was following me when she stopped him.

"Do you wish to see Miss Havisham?" she asked.

"If Miss Havisham wishes to see me," answered Mr Pumblechook, a little confused.

"Ah!" said the girl, "but you see, she doesn't."

The young lady took me through the untidy garden to the house. Although she called me "boy," she was the same age as me, but she seemed much older than me. She was beautiful, and as proud as a queen. We went through many dark passages until we reached a door, where she left me, taking her candle with her.

Mr Pumblechook dared not protest but he whispered angrily to me before he turned away, "Boy! Behave well here and remember those who brought you up by hand!" I thought he would come back and call through the gate, "And sixteen?" but he did not.

"Who are you?" said the lady at the table.

"Pip, madam. Mr Pumblechook's boy. Come to play."

"Come close. Let me look at you." As I stood in front of her, I noticed that her watch and a clock in the room had both stopped at twenty minutes to nine.

I knocked at the door and was told to enter. I found myself in a large room, where the curtains were closed to allow no daylight in, and the candles were lit. In the centre of the room, sitting at a table, was the strangest lady I have ever seen, or shall ever see. She was wearing a wedding dress made of rich material. She had a bride's flowers in her hair, but her hair was white. There were suitcases full of dresses and Jewels around her, ready for a journey. She only had one white shoe on. Then I realized that over the years the white wedding dress had become yellow, and the flowers in her hair had died, and the bride inside the dress had grown old. Everything in the room was ancient and dying. The only brightness in the room was in her dark old eyes, that stared at me.

I am sorry to say I told a huge lie by saying, "No."

"Do you know what ths is?" she asked, putting her hand on her left side.

"You aren't afraid of a woman who has never seen the sun since you were born?" asked Miss Havisham.

"Yes, madam." It made me think of my convict's travelling companion. "Your heart, madam," I added.

"My heart! Broken!" she cried almost proudly, with a strange smile. Then she said, "I am tired. I want to see something different. Play."

No order could be more difficult to obey in that house and that room. I was desperate enough to consider rushing round the table pretending to be Pumblechook's carriage, but I could not make myself do it, and just stood there helplessly.

"I'm very sorry, madam," I said, "my sister will be very angry with me if you complain, but I can't play just now. Everything is so strange, and new, and sad…" I stopped, afraid to say more. Miss Havisham looked down at her dress, and then at her face in the mirror on the table.

"So strange to him, so well-known to me," she whispered. "So new to him, so old to me. And so sad to us both! Call Estella!"

I thought I heard Miss Havisham whisper,"Well! You can break his heart!" She sat, like a dead body ready for the grave, watching us play cards in the candle-light. I almost wondered if she was afraid that daylight would turn her into dust.

"Anything else?"

"What do you think of her?" Whispered Miss Havisham to me.

"I don't know. I'd… I'd like to go home now."

"With this boy! But he's a common working boy!"

"What coarse hands this boy has! And what thick boots!" cried Estella in disgust, before we had finished our first game. I was suddenly aware that what she said was true.

"Anything else?"

"I think she's very pretty."

"And never see her again, although she's so pretty?"

"I think she's very proud," I whispered back.

"I think she's very rude. And… and I'd like to go home."

When Estella finally came, with her candle, along the dark passage, Miss Havisham picked up a jewel from her table and put it in Estella's hair. "Very pretty, my dear. It will be yours one day. Now let me see you play cards with this boy."

And so I found myself back in the overgrown garden in the bright daylight. Estella put some bread and meat down on the ground for me, like a dog. I was so offended by her behaviour towards me that tears came to my eyes. As soon as she saw this, She gave a delighted laugh, and pushed me out of the gate. I walked the four miles home to the forge, thinking about all I had seen. As I looked sadly at my hands and boots, I remembered that I was only a common working boy, and wished I could be different.

Miss Havisham smiled. "You can go home. Come again in six days'time. Estella, give him some food. GO, Pip."

My sister was curious to know all the details of my visit, and kept asking me question after question. Somehow I felt I could not, or did not want to, explain about Miss Havisham and her strange house. I knew my sister would not understand. And the worst of it was, that old fool Pumblechook arrived at tea-time, to ask more questions. Just looking at his fishy staring eyes and open mouth made me want to keep silent.

"She was sitting in a black carriage," I replied.

"Was anybody else there?" asked Mr Pumblechook.

"Yes," I said, becoming more confident. "And Miss Estella, her niece, I think, handed in gold plates with cake and wine through the windows."

"I don't know," I said. I didn't care, either.

"Very tall and dark," I said, lying.

"Is she, uncle?" asked my sister eagerly.

"Oh yes," answered Mr Pumblechook. So I knew immediately that he had never seen her. "This is the way to get information from this boy," he added quietly to Mrs Joe.

"Boy!" he continued. "Describe Miss Havisham."

"How well you make him obey you, uncle!"said Mrs Joe.

"Now, boy! What was she doing when you arrived?"

Mr Pumblechook and Mrs Joe stared at each other. "In a black carriage?" they repeated.

"Leave this boy to me, madam," he told Mrs Joe. "I'll make him concentrate. Now, boy, what's forty-three and seventy-two?"

"Is it eighty-five, for example?" he joked.

"Yes!" I answered, although I knew it wasn't. My sister hit me hard on the head.

"Is none of it true, Pip?" he asked, shocked. "No black carriage? But at least there were dogs, weren't there, Pip? No? Not even one dog?"

"Can this be possible, uncle?" asked Mrs Joe.

"Four dogs, huge ones. They ate meat out of a silver basket."

"Where was this carriage, boy?"

"She's a strange woman, madam. It's quite possible. What did you play at, boy?"

Fortunately they asked no more questions, and were still discussing the wonderful things I had seen, when Joe came in from the forge. When I saw his blue eyes open wide in surprise, I felt very sorry I had lied, and that evening, as soon as I found Joe alone for a moment, I confessed to him that I had lied about my visit to Miss Havisham.

"In her room. But there weren't any horses."

"No, Joe, I'm sorry."

"Pip, old boy!" His kind face looked very unhappy. "If you tell lies, where do you think you'll go when you die?"

"We played with flags," I answered. What lies I was telling! "Estella waved a blue one, and I had a red one, and Miss Havisham waved one with little gold stars on, out of the carriage window."

"I know, Joe, it's terrible. I don't know what happened. Oh I wish I didn't have such thick boots and such coarse hands! I'm so miserable, Joe. That beautiful young lady at Miss Havisham's said I was common. And I know I am! Somehow that made me tell lies."

"One thing to remember, Pip," said Joe, lighting his pipe slowly, "is that lies are always wrong. You can't stop being common by telling lies. That's not the way to do it. And you're learning all the time, Pip! Look at that letter you wrote me last night! Even the King had to start learning at the beginning, didn't he? That reminds me, any flags at Miss Havisham's? No? That's a pity. Look here, Pip, this is a true friend speaking to you. Take my advice. No more lies, live well, and die happy."

Encouraged by Joe's honest words I went to bed, but I couldn't stop myself thinking that Estella would consider Joe's boots too thick and his hands too coarse, and our whole family common. That was a day I shall never forget.