strange　unwholesome　smell　upon　the　room；　like　mildewed
  corduroys；　sweet　apples　wanting　air；　and　rotten　books。　There
  could　not　well　be　more　ink　splashed　about　it；　if　it　had　been　roofless
  from　its　first　construction；　and　the　skies　had　rained；　snowed；
  hailed；　and　blown　ink　through　the　varying　seasons　of　the　year。
  Mr。　Mell　having　left　me　while　he　took　his　irreparable　boots
  upstairs；　I　went　softly　to　the　upper　end　of　the　room；　observing　all
  this　as　I　crept　along。　Suddenly　I　came　upon　a　pasteboard　placard；
  beautifully　written；　which　was　lying　on　the　desk；　and　bore　these
  words：　‘Take　care　of　him。　He　bites。’
  I　got　upon　the　desk　immediately；　apprehensive　of　at　least　a
  great　dog　underneath。　But；　though　I　looked　all　round　with　anxious
  eyes；　I　could　see　nothing　of　him。　I　was　still　engaged　in　peering
  about；　when　Mr。　Mell　came　back；　and　asked　me　what　I　did　up
  there？
  ‘I　beg　your　pardon；　sir；’　says　I；　‘if　you　please；　I’m　looking　for　the
  dog。’
  ‘Dog？’　he　says。　‘What　dog？’
  ‘Isn’t　it　a　dog；　sir？’
  ‘Isn’t　what　a　dog？’
  ‘That’s　to　be　taken　care　of；　sir；　that　bites。’
  ‘No；　Copperfield；’　says　he；　gravely；　‘that’s　not　a　dog。　That’s　a
  boy。　My　instructions　are；　Copperfield；　to　put　this　placard　on　your
  back。　I　am　sorry　to　make　such　a　beginning　with　you；　but　I　must　do
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  it。’　With　that　he　took　me　down；　and　tied　the　placard；　which　was
  neatly　constructed　for　the　purpose；　on　my　shoulders　like　a
  knapsack；　and　wherever　I　went；　afterwards；　I　had　the　consolation
  of　carrying　it。
  What　I　suffered　from　that　placard；　nobody　can　imagine。
  Whether　it　was　possible　for　people　to　see　me　or　not；　I　always
  fancied　that　somebody　was　reading　it。　It　was　no　relief　to　turn
  round　and　find　nobody；　for　wherever　my　back　was；　there　I
  imagined　somebody　always　to　be。　That　cruel　man　with　the　wooden
  leg　aggravated　my　sufferings。　He　was　in　authority；　and　if　he　ever
  saw　me　leaning　against　a　tree；　or　a　wall；　or　the　house；　he　roared
  out　from　his　lodge　door　in　a　stupendous　voice；　‘Hallo；　you　sir！　You
  Copperfield！　Show　that　badge　conspicuous；　or　I’ll　report　you！’　The
  playground　was　a　bare　gravelled　yard；　open　to　all　the　back　of　the
  house　and　the　offices；　and　I　knew　that　the　servants　read　it；　and　the
  butcher　read　it；　and　the　baker　read　it；　that　everybody；　in　a　word；
  who　came　backwards　and　forwards　to　the　house；　of　a　morning
  when　I　was　ordered　to　walk　there；　read　that　I　was　to　be　taken　care
  of；　for　I　bit；　I　recollect　that　I　positively　began　to　have　a　dread　of
  myself；　as　a　kind　of　wild　boy　who　did　bite。
  There　was　an　old　door　in　this　playground；　on　which　the　boys
  had　a　custom　of　carving　their　names。　It　was　completely　covered
  with　such　inscriptions。　In　my　dread　of　the　end　of　the　vacation　and
  their　coming　back；　I　could　not　read　a　boy’s　name；　without
  inquiring　in　what　tone　and　with　what　emphasis　he　would　read；
  ‘Take　care　of　him。　He　bites。’　There　was　one　boy—a　certain　J。
  Steerforth—who　cut　his　name　very　deep　and　very　often；　who；　I
  conceived；　would　read　it　in　a　rather　strong　voice；　and　afterwards
  pull　my　hair。　There　was　another　boy；　one　Tommy　Traddles；　who　I
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  dreaded　would　make　game　of　it；　and　pretend　to　be　dreadfully
  frightened　of　me。　There　was　a　third；　George　Demple；　who　I　fancied
  would　sing　it。　I　have　looked；　a　little　shrinking　creature；　at　that
  door；　until　the　owners　of　all　the　names—there　were　five…and…forty
  of　them　in　the　school　then；　Mr。　Mell　said—seemed　to　send　me　to
  Coventry　by　general　acclamation；　and　to　cry　out；　each　in　his　own
  way；　‘Take　care　of　him。　He　bites！’
  It　was　the　same　with　the　places　at　the　desks　and　forms。　It　was
  the　same　with　the　groves　of　deserted　bedsteads　I　peeped　at；　on　my
  way　to；　and　when　I　was　in；　my　own　bed。　I　remember　dreaming
  night　after　night；　of　being　with　my　mother　as　she　used　to　be；　or　of
  going　to　a　party　at　Mr。　Peggotty’s；　or　of　travelling　outside　the
  stage…coach；　or　of　dining　again　with　my　unfortunate　friend　the
  waiter；　and　in　all　these　circumstances　making　people　scream　and
  stare；　by　the　unhappy　disclosure　that　I　had　nothing　on　but　my
  little　night…shirt；　and　that　placard。
  In　the　monotony　of　my　life；　and　in　my　constant　apprehension　of
  the　re…opening　of　the　school；　it　was　such　an　insupportable
  affliction！　I　had　long　tasks　every　day　to　do　with　Mr。　Mell；　but　I　did
  them；　there　being　no　Mr。　and　Miss　Murdstone　here；　and　got
  through　them　without　disgrace。　Before；　and　after　them；　I　walked
  about—supervised；　as　I　have　mentioned；　by　the　man　with　the
  wooden　leg。　How　vividly　I　call　to　mind　the　damp　about　the　house；
  the　green　cracked　flagstones　in　the　court；　an　old　leaky　water…butt；
  and　the　discoloured　trunks　of　some　of　the　grim　trees；　which
  seemed　to　have　dripped　more　in　the　rain　than　other　trees；　and　to
  have　blown　less　in　the　sun！　At　one　we　dined；　Mr。　Mell　and　I；　at　the
  upper　end　of　a　long　bare　dining…room；　full　of　deal　tables；　and
  smelling　of　fat。　Then；　we　had　more　tasks　until　tea；　which　Mr。　Mell
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  drank　out　of　a　blue　teacup；　and　I　out　of　a　tin　pot。　All　day　long；　and
  until　seven　or　eight　in　the　evening；　Mr。　Mell；　at　his　own　detached
  desk　in　the　schoolroom；　worked　hard　with　pen；　ink；　ruler；　books；
  and　writing…paper；　making　out　the　bills　（as　I　found）　for　last　half…
  year。　When　he　had　put　up　his　things　for　the　night　he　took　out　his
  flute；　and　blew　at　it；　until　I　almost　thought　he　would　gradually
  blow　his　whole　being　into　the　large　hole　at　the　top；　and　ooze　away
  at　the　keys。
  I　picture　my　small　self　in　the　dimly…lighted　rooms；　sitting　with
  my　head　upon　my　hand；　listening　to　the　doleful　performance　of
  Mr。　Mell；　and　conning　tomorrow’s　lessons。　I　picture　myself　with
  my　books　shut　up；　still　listening　to　the　doleful　performance　of　Mr。
  Mell；　and　listening　through　it　to　what　used　to　be　at　home；　and　to
  the　blowing　of　the　wind　on　Yarmouth　flats；　and　feeling　very　sad
  and　solitary。　I　picture　myself　going　up　to　bed；　among　the　unused
  rooms；　and　sitting　on　my　bed…side　crying　for　a　comfortable　word
  from　Peggotty。　I　picture　myself　coming　downstairs　in　the　morning；
  and　looking　through　a　long　ghastly　gash　of　a　staircase　window　at
  the　school…bell　hanging　on　the　top　of　an　out…house　with　a
  weathercock　above　it；　and　dreading　the　time　when　it　shall　ring　J。
  Steerforth　and　the　rest　to　work：　which　is　only　second；　in　my
  foreboding　apprehensions；　to　the　time　when　the　man　with　the
  wooden　leg　shall　unlock　the　rusty　gate　to　give　admission　to　the
  awful　Mr。　Creakle。　I　cannot　think　I　was　a　very　dangerous
  character　in　any　of　these　aspects；　but　in　all　of　them　I　carried　the
  same　warning　on　my　back。
  Mr。　Mell　never　said　much　to　me；　but　he　was　never　harsh　to　me。
  I　suppose　we　were　company　to　each　other；　without　talking。　I　forgot
  to　mention　that　he　would　talk　to　himself　sometimes；　and　grin；　and
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  clench　his　fist；　and　grind　his　teeth；　and　pull　his　hair　in　an
  unaccountable　manner。　But　he　had　these　peculiarities：　and　at　first
  they　frightened　me；　though　I　soon　got　used　to　them。
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  David　Copperfield
  Chapter　6
  I　ENLARGE　MY　CIRCLE　OF　ACQUAINTANCE
  Ihad　led　this　life　about　a　month；　when　the　man　with　the
  wooden　leg　began　to　stump　about　with　a　mop　and　a　bucket　of
  water；　from　which　I　inferred　that　preparations　were　making
  to　receive　Mr。　Creakle　and　the　boys。　I　was　not　mistaken；　for　the
  mop　came　into　the　schoolroom　before　long；　and　turned　out　Mr。
  Mell　and　me；　who　lived　where　we　could；　and　got　on　how　we　could；
  for　some　days；　during　which　we　were　always　in　the　way　of　two　or
  three　young　women；　who　had　rarely　shown　themselves　before；　and
  were　so　continually　in　the　midst　of　dust　that　I　sneezed　almost　as
  much　as　if　Salem　House　had　been　a　great　snuff…box。
  One　day　I　was　informed　by　Mr。　Mell　that　Mr。　Creakle　would　be
  home　that　evening。　In　the　evening；　after　tea；　I　heard　that　he　was
  come。　Before　bedtime；　I　was　fetched　by　the　man　with　the　wooden
  leg　to　appear　before　him。
  Mr。　Creakle’s　part　of　the　house　was　a　good　deal　more
  comfortable　than　ours；　and　he　had　a　snug　bit　of　garden　that　looked
  pleasant　after　the　dusty　playground；　which　was　such　a　desert　in
  miniature；　that　I　thought　no　one　but　a　camel；　or　a　dromedary；
  could　have　felt　at　home　in　it。　It　seemed　to　me　a　bold　thing　even　to
  take　notice　that　the　passage　looked　comfortable；　as　I　went　on　my
  way；　trembling；　to　Mr。　Creakle’s　presence：　which　so　abashed　me；
  when　I　was　ushered　into　it；　that　I　hardly　saw　Mrs。　Creakle　or　Miss
  Creakle　（who　were　both　there；　in　the　parlour）；　or　anything　but　Mr。
  Creakle；　a　stout　gentleman　with　a　bunch　of　watch…chain　and　seals；
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  David　Copperfield
  in　an　arm…chair；　with　a　tumbler　and　bottle　beside　him。
  ‘So！’　said　Mr。　Creakle。　‘This　is　the　young　gentleman　whose
  teeth　are　to　be　filed！　Turn　him　round。’
  The　wooden…legged　man　turned　me　about　so　as　to　exhibit　the
  placard；　and　having　afforded