As I stood at the gate peeping in and wondering how I had best proceed, a tall, slim lady came out of the house. She had a handkerchief tied over her cap, a pair of gardener's gloves on her hands, and carried a pruning-knife.
"Go away!" said Miss Betsey (for it was none other), shaking her head when she saw me, and making a distant chop in the air with her knife. "Go along! No boys here!"
I watched her, with my heart at my lips, as she marched to a corner of her garden, and stooped to dig a root. Then, without a scrap of courage, but with a great deal of desperation, I went softly in and stood beside her, touching her with my finger.
"If you please, ma'am," I began.
She started and looked up.
"If you please, aunt."
"EH?" exclaimed Miss Betsey, in a tone of amazement I have never heard approached.
"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 the Rookery. I used to hear my dear mamma speak of you before she died. I have been neglected and mistreated, and so I ran away and came to you. I was robbed at first setting out, and have walked all the way, and have never slept in a bed since I began the journey."