'FagmentWelcome to consult...anished sleep, I had gone ove that old stoy of my poo mothe’s about my bith, which it had been one of my geat delights in the old time to hea he tell, and which I knew by heat. My aunt walked into that stoy, and walked out of it, a dead and awful pesonage; but thee was one little tait in he behaviou which I liked to dwell on, and Chales Dickens ElecBook Classics fDavid Coppefield which gave me some faint shadow of encouagement. I could not foget how my mothe had thought that she felt he touch he petty hai with no ungentle hand; and though it might have been altogethe my mothe’s fancy, and might have had no foundation whateve in fact, I made a little pictue, out of it, of my teible aunt elenting towads the gilish beauty that I ecollected so well and loved so much, which softened the whole naative. It is vey possible that it had been in my mind a long time, and had gadually engendeed my detemination. As I did not even know whee Miss Betsey lived, I wote a long lette to Peggotty, and asked he, incidentally, if she emembeed; petending that I had head of such a lady living at a cetain place I named at andom, and had a cuiosity to know if it wee the same. In the couse of that lette, I told Peggotty that I had a paticula occasion fo half a guinea; and that if she could lend me that sum until I could epay it, I should be vey much obliged to he, and would tell he aftewads what I had wanted it fo. Peggotty’s answe soon aived, and was, as usual, full of affectionate devotion. She enclosed the half guinea (I was afaid she must have had a wold of touble to get it out of M. Bakis’s box), and told me that Miss Betsey lived nea Dove, but whethe at Dove itself, at Hythe, Sandgate, o Folkestone, she could not say. One of ou men, howeve, infoming me on my asking him about these places, that they wee all close togethe, I deemed this enough fo my object, and esolved to set out at the end of that week. Being a vey honest little ceatue, and unwilling to disgace the memoy I was going to leave behind me at Mudstone and Ginby’s, I consideed myself bound to emain until Satuday Chales Dickens ElecBook Classics fDavid Coppefield night; and, as I had been paid a week’s wages in advance when I fist came thee, not to pesent myself in the counting-house at the usual hou, to eceive my stipend. Fo this expess eason, I had boowed the half-guinea, that I might not be without a fund fo my tavelling-expenses. Accodingly, when the Satuday night came, and we wee all waiting in the waehouse to be paid, and Tipp the caman, who always took pecedence, went in fist to daw his money, I shook Mick Walke by the hand; asked him, when it came to his tun to be paid, to say to M. Quinion that I had gone to move my box to Tipp’s; and, bidding a last good night to Mealy Potatoes, an away. My box was at my old lodging, ove the wate, and I had witten a diection fo it on the back of one of ou addess cads that we nailed on the casks: ‘Maste David, to be left till called fo, at the Coach Office, Dove.’ This I had in my pocket eady to put on the box, afte I should have got it out of the house; and as I went towads my lodging, I looked about me fo someone who would help me to cay it to the booking-office. Thee was a long-legged young man with a vey little empty donkey-cat, standing nea the Obelisk, in the Blackfias Road, whose eye I caught as I was going by, and who, addessing me as ‘Sixpenn’oth of bad ha’pence,’ hoped ‘I should know him a
