0 David Copperfield
tention that I was quite overpowered by embarrassment.
Not having as yet finished my own breakfast, I attempted to
hide my confusion by proceeding with it; but my knife tum-
bled over my fork, my fork tripped up my knife, I chipped
bits of bacon a surprising height into the air instead of cut-
ting them for my own eating, and choked myself with my
tea, which persisted in going the wrong way instead of the
right one, until I gave in altogether, and sat blushing under
my aunt’s close scrutiny.
‘Hallo!’ said my aunt, after a long time.
I looked up, and met her sharp bright glance respectful-
ly.
‘I have written to him,’ said my aunt.
‘To -?’
‘To your father-in-law,’ said my aunt. ‘I have sent him a
letter that I’ll trouble him to attend to, or he and I will fall
out, I can tell him!’
‘Does he know where I am, aunt?’ I inquired, alarmed.
‘I have told him,’ said my aunt, with a nod.
‘Shall I - be - given up to him?’ I faltered.
‘I don’t know,’ said my aunt. ‘We shall see.’
‘Oh! I can’t think what I shall do,’ I exclaimed, ‘if I have
to go back to Mr. Murdstone!’
‘I don’t know anything about it,’ said my aunt, shaking
her head. ‘I can’t say, I am sure. We shall see.’
My spirits sank under these words, and I became very
downcast and heavy of heart. My aunt, without appearing
to take much heed of me, put on a coarse apron with a bib,
which she took out of the press; washed up the teacups with