"Ah!" said Mr. Barkis. "Her."
"Yes, she makes all our pastry, and does all our cooking."
Mr. Barkis said nothing for some moments. Then—
"Perhaps you might be writin' to her, later on?"
"Yes, indeed," I said.
"Then you just say to her that Barkis is willin'. Would you?"
"Yes, sir," I replied, considerably puzzled by the message. And I did deliver it the very first time I wrote to Peggotty. I did not then know that the carrier meant, by being "willing," he wanted to marry my good Peggotty and was too shy to say so for himself.
At Yarmouth I changed to the coach for London; and at London, to still another coach for Salem, the school. And so, after a long, wearisome journey, I reached my new destination. Another leaf of my life was turned over, and a fresh one begun.
III. SCHOOL. STEERFORTH AND TRADDLES
Salem House was a square brick building with wings. The schoolroom was very long, with three rows of desks running the length of it and bristling all around with pegs for hats and slates. Scraps of copy-books and exercises littered the floor. The other students had not yet returned from their holidays when I took my first peep into this room, in company with Mr. Mell, one of the tutors.