come　of　the　Memorial；　if　it　were　completed；　where　he　thought　it
  was　to　go；　or　what　he　thought　it　was　to　do；　he　knew　no　more　than
  anybody　else；　I　believe。　Nor　was　it　at　all　necessary　that　he　should
  trouble　himself　with　such　questions；　for　if　anything　were　certain
  under　the　sun；　it　was　certain　that　the　Memorial　never　would　be
  finished。　It　was　quite　an　affecting　sight；　I　used　to　think；　to　see　him
  with　the　kite　when　it　was　up　a　great　height　in　the　air。　What　he　had
  told　me；　in　his　room；　about　his　belief　in　its　disseminating　the
  statements　pasted　on　it；　which　were　nothing　but　old　leaves　of
  abortive　Memorials；　might　have　been　a　fancy　with　him　sometimes；
  but　not　when　he　was　out；　looking　up　at　the　kite　in　the　sky；　and
  feeling　it　pull　and　tug　at　his　hand。　He　never　looked　so　serene　as　he
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  did　then。　I　used　to　fancy；　as　I　sat　by　him　of　an　evening；　on　a　green
  slope；　and　saw　him　watch　the　kite　high　in　the　quiet　air；　that　it
  lifted　his　mind　out　of　its　confusion；　and　bore　it　（such　was　my
  boyish　thought）　into　the　skies。　As　he　wound　the　string　in　and　it
  came　lower　and　lower　down　out　of　the　beautiful　light；　until　it
  fluttered　to　the　ground；　and　lay　there　like　a　dead　thing；　he　seemed
  to　wake　gradually　out　of　a　dream；　and　I　remember　to　have　seen
  him　take　it　up；　and　look　about　him　in　a　lost　way；　as　if　they　had
  both　come　down　together；　so　that　I　pitied　him　with　all　my　heart。
  While　I　advanced　in　friendship　and　intimacy　with　Mr。　Dick；　I
  did　not　go　backward　in　the　favour　of　his　staunch　friend；　my　aunt。
  She　took　so　kindly　to　me；　that；　in　the　course　of　a　few　weeks；　she
  shortened　my　adopted　name　of　Trotwood　into　Trot；　and　even
  encouraged　me　to　hope；　that　if　I　went　on　as　I　had　begun；　I　might
  take　equal　rank　in　her　affections　with　my　sister　Betsey　Trotwood。
  ‘Trot；’　said　my　aunt　one　evening；　when　the　backgammon…board
  was　placed　as　usual　for　herself　and　Mr。　Dick；　‘we　must　not　forget
  your　education。’
  This　was　my　only　subject　of　anxiety；　and　I　felt　quite　delighted
  by　her　referring　to　it。
  ‘Should　you　like　to　go　to　school　at　Canterbury？’　said　my　aunt。
  I　replied　that　I　should　like　it　very　much；　as　it　was　so　near　her。
  ‘Good；’　said　my　aunt。　‘Should　you　like　to　go　tomorrow？’
  Being　already　no　stranger　to　the　general　rapidity　of　my　aunt’s
  evolutions；　I　was　not　surprised　by　the　suddenness　of　the　proposal；
  and　said：　‘Yes。’
  ‘Good；’　said　my　aunt　again。　‘Janet；　hire　the　grey　pony　and
  chaise　tomorrow　morning　at　ten　o’clock；　and　pack　up　Master
  Trotwood’s　clothes　tonight。’
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  David　Copperfield
  I　was　greatly　elated　by　these　orders；　but　my　heart　smote　me　for
  my　selfishness；　when　I　witnessed　their　effect　on　Mr。　Dick；　who　was
  so　low…spirited　at　the　prospect　of　our　separation；　and　played　so　ill
  in　consequence；　that　my　aunt；　after　giving　him　several　admonitory
  raps　on　the　knuckles　with　her　dice…box；　shut　up　the　board；　and
  declined　to　play　with　him　any　more。　But；　on　hearing　from　my　aunt
  that　I　should　sometimes　come　over　on　a　Saturday；　and　that　he
  could　sometimes　come　and　see　me　on　a　Wednesday；　he　revived；
  and　vowed　to　make　another　kite　for　those　occasions；　of
  proportions　greatly　surpassing　the　present　one。　In　the　morning　he
  was　downhearted　again；　and　would　have　sustained　himself　by
  giving　me　all　the　money　he　had　in　his　possession；　gold　and　silver
  too；　if　my　aunt　had　not　interposed；　and　limited　the　gift　to　five
  shillings；　which；　at　his　earnest　petition；　were　afterwards　increased
  to　ten。　We　parted　at　the　garden…gate　in　a　most　affectionate
  manner；　and　Mr。　Dick　did　not　go　into　the　house　until　my　aunt　had
  driven　me　out　of　sight　of　it。
  My　aunt；　who　was　perfectly　indifferent　to　public　opinion；　drove
  the　grey　pony　through　Dover　in　a　masterly　manner；　sitting　high
  and　stiff　like　a　state　coachman；　keeping　a　steady　eye　upon　him
  wherever　he　went；　and　making　a　point　of　not　letting　him　have　his
  own　way　in　any　respect。　When　we　came　into　the　country　road；　she
  permitted　him　to　relax　a　little；　however；　and　looking　at　me　down　in
  a　valley　of　cushion　by　her　side；　asked　me　whether　I　was　happy？
  ‘Very　happy　indeed；　thank　you；　aunt；’　I　said。
  She　was　much　gratified；　and　both　her　hands　being　occupied；
  patted　me　on　the　head　with　her　whip。
  ‘Is　it　a　large　school；　aunt？’　I　asked。
  ‘Why；　I　don’t　know；’　said　my　aunt。　‘We　are　going　to　Mr。
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  David　Copperfield
  Wickfield’s　first。’
  ‘Does　he　keep　a　school？’　I　asked。
  ‘No；　Trot；’　said　my　aunt。　‘He　keeps　an　office。’
  I　asked　for　no　more　information　about　Mr。　Wickfield；　as　she
  offered　none；　and　we　conversed　on　other　subjects　until　we　came　to
  Canterbury；　where；　as　it　was　market…day；　my　aunt　had　a　great
  opportunity　of　insinuating　the　grey　pony　among　carts；　baskets；
  vegetables；　and　huckster’s　goods。　The　hair…breadth　turns　and
  twists　we　made；　drew　down　upon　us　a　variety　of　speeches　from　the
  people　standing　about；　which　were　not　always　complimentary；　but
  my　aunt　drove　on　with　perfect　indifference；　and　I　dare　say　would
  have　taken　her　own　way　with　as　much　coolness　through　an
  enemy’s　country。
  At　length　we　stopped　before　a　very　old　house　bulging　out　over
  the　road；　a　house　with　long　low　lattice…windows　bulging　out　still
  farther；　and　beams　with　carved　heads　on　the　ends　bulging　out　too；
  so　that　I　fancied　the　whole　house　was　leaning　forward；　trying　to
  see　who　was　passing　on　the　narrow　pavement　below。　It　was　quite
  spotless　in　its　cleanliness。　The　old…fashioned　brass　knocker　on　the
  low　arched　door；　ornamented　with　carved　garlands　of　fruit　and
  flowers；　twinkled　like　a　star；　the　two　stone　steps　descending　to　the
  door　were　as　white　as　if　they　had　been　covered　with　fair　linen；　and
  all　the　angles　and　corners；　and　carvings　and　mouldings；　and
  quaint　little　panes　of　glass；　and　quainter　little　windows；　though　as
  old　as　the　hills；　were　as　pure　as　any　snow　that　ever　fell　upon　the
  hills。
  When　the　pony…chaise　stopped　at　the　door；　and　my　eyes　were
  intent　upon　the　house；　I　saw　a　cadaverous　face　appear　at　a　small
  window　on　the　ground　floor　（in　a　little　round　tower　that　formed
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  David　Copperfield
  one　side　of　the　house）；　and　quickly　disappear。　The　low　arched　door
  then　opened；　and　the　face　came　out。　It　was　quite　as　cadaverous　as
  it　had　looked　in　the　window；　though　in　the　grain　of　it　there　was
  that　tinge　of　red　which　is　sometimes　to　be　observed　in　the　skins　of
  red…haired　people。　It　belonged　to　a　red…haired　person—a　youth　of
  fifteen；　as　I　take　it　now；　but　looking　much　older—whose　hair　was
  cropped　as　close　as　the　closest　stubble；　who　had　hardly　any
  eyebrows；　and　no　eyelashes；　and　eyes　of　a　red…brown；　so
  unsheltered　and　unshaded；　that　I　remember　wondering　how　he
  went　to　sleep。　He　was　high…shouldered　and　bony；　dressed　in
  decent　black；　with　a　white　wisp　of　a　neckcloth；　buttoned　up　to　the
  throat；　and　had　a　long；　lank；　skeleton　hand；　which　particularly
  attracted　my　attention；　as　he　stood　at　the　pony’s　head；　rubbing　his
  chin　with　it；　and　looking　up　at　us　in　the　chaise。
  ‘Is　Mr。　Wickfield　at　home；　Uriah　Heep？’　said　my　aunt。
  ‘Mr。　Wickfield’s　at　home；　ma’am；’　said　Uriah　Heep；　‘if　you’ll
  please　to　walk　in　there’—pointing　with　his　long　hand　to　the　room
  he　meant。
  We　got　out；　and　leaving　him　to　hold　the　pony；　went　into　a　long
  low　parlour　looking　towards　the　street；　from　the　window　of　which
  I　caught　a　glimpse；　as　I　went　in；　of　Uriah　Heep　breathing　into　the
  pony’s　nostrils；　and　immediately　covering　them　with　his　hand；　as　if
  he　were　putting　some　spell　upon　him。　Opposite　to　the　tall　old
  chimney…piece　were　two　portraits：　one　of　a　gentleman　with　grey
  hair　（though　not　by　any　means　an　old　man）　and　black　eyebrows；
  who　was　looking　over　some　papers　tied　together　with　red　tape；　the
  other；　of　a　lady；　with　a　very　placid　and　sweet　expression　of　face；
  who　was　looking　at　me。
  I　believe　I　was　turning　about　in　search　of　Uriah’s　picture；　when；
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  David　Copperfield
  a　door　at　the　farther　end　of　the　room　opening；　a　gentleman
  entered；　at　sight　of　whom　I　turned　to　the　first…mentioned　portrait
  again；　to　make　quite　sure　that　it　had　not　come　out　of　its　frame。　But
  it　was　stationary；　and　as　the　gentleman　advanced　into　the　light；　I
  saw　that　he　was　some　years　older　than　when　he　had　had　his
  picture　painted。
  ‘Miss　Betsey　Trotwood；’　said　the　gentleman；　‘pray　walk　in。　I　was
  engaged　for　a　moment；　but　you’ll　excuse　my　being　busy。　You　know
  my　motive。　I　have　but　one　in　life。’
  Miss　Betsey　thanked　him；　and　we　went　into　his　room；　which
  was　furnished　as　an　office；　with　books；　papers；　tin　boxes；　and　so
  forth。　It　looked　into　a　garden；　and　had　an　iron　safe　let　into　the
  wall；　so　immediately　over　the　mantelshelf；　that　I　wondered；　as　I　sat
  down；　how　the　sweeps　got　round　it　when　they　swept　the　chimney。
  ‘Well；　Miss　Trotwood；’　said　Mr。　Wickfield；　for　I　soon　found　that
  it　was　he；　and　that　he　was　a　lawyer；　and　steward　of　the　estates　of　a
  rich　gentleman　of　the　county；　‘wh