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Updated: June 28, 2025
Tell me where to come to; and in two hours I'll produce myself in any state you please, sentimental or comical. I gave him minute directions for finding the residence of Mr. Barkis, carrier to Blunderstone and elsewhere; and, on this understanding, went out alone.
I knew her immediately to be Miss Betsey, for she came stalking out of the house exactly as my poor mother had so often described her stalking up our garden at Blunderstone Rookery. 'Go away! said Miss Betsey, shaking her head, and making a distant chop in the air with her knife. 'Go along! No boys here!
It was not difficult for me, on Peggotty's solicitation, to resolve to stay where I was, until after the remains of the poor carrier should have made their last journey to Blunderstone. She had long ago bought, out of her own savings, a little piece of ground in our old churchyard near the grave of 'her sweet girl', as she always called my mother; and there they were to rest.
I watched her as she marched to a corner of the garden, and then, in desperation, I went softly and stood beside her. "If you please, ma'am if you please, aunt, I am your nephew." "Oh, Lord!" said my aunt, and sat flat down in the garden path. "I am David Copperfield, of Blunderstone, in Suffolk, where you came when I was born. I have been very unhappy since my mother died.
Chillip had left Blunderstone six or seven years ago, and I had never seen him since. He sat placidly perusing the newspaper, with his little head on one side, and a glass of warm sherry negus at his elbow. He was so extremely conciliatory in his manner that he seemed to apologize to the very newspaper for taking the liberty of reading it.
Omer, looking at me and shaking his head; 'for I don't remember you. 'Don't you remember your coming to the coach to meet me, and my having breakfast here, and our riding out to Blunderstone together: you, and I, and Mrs. Joram, and Mr. Joram too who wasn't her husband then? 'Why, Lord bless my soul! exclaimed Mr.
Turning upon me a lustreless eye, that reminded me of a long-forgotten blind old horse who once used to crop the grass, and tumble over the graves, in Blunderstone churchyard, he said he was glad to see me: and then he gave me his hand; which I didn't know what to do with, as it did nothing for itself.
'I beg your pardon, observed my aunt with a keen look. 'You are the Mr. Murdstone who married the widow of my late nephew, David Copperfield, of Blunderstone Rookery! Though why Rookery, I don't know! 'I am, said Mr. Murdstone. 'You'll excuse my saying, sir, returned my aunt, 'that I think it would have been a much better and happier thing if you had left that poor child alone.
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