Chapter 10 Chapter 6 I widen my circle of acquaintances

After living like this for about a month, the wooden-legged man began to wander around with a mop and a bucket of water, so I guess he was making preparations to welcome Mr. Creeker and the students.I reckoned it was right; for the mop soon came into the room and kicked Mr. Mell and I out, and we both lived where we could for a few days, and lived as we could. .During those days, we would always meet two or three young women who had hardly been seen before, and because we were still surrounded by thick dust, I kept sneezing, as if the Salem School was a Like a giant snuff box. One day Mr. Mel told me that Mr. Creeker would be home that evening.After tea that evening I heard that he had arrived.I was taken to him by the wooden-legged man before going to bed.

Mr. Creeker's house was much more comfortable than ours.He also has a small garden, which is a delight to look at compared with the dusty playground.The playground is really a small desert, and I don't think anyone but a double-humped or single-humped camel would feel at home there.Trembling, I went up to Mr. Creeker, and noticed the aisle was comfortable, which I thought was bold enough.I was so overwhelmed by Mr. Creakle's majesty when I first entered the room that I hardly saw Mrs. and Miss Creakle (who were present, in the drawing-room) except him. ).I saw nothing but Mr. Creakle, a huge gentleman with a watch-chain and ornaments, sitting in an arm-chair with a mug and a jug beside him.

"Aha!" said Mr. Creeker. "Here's the young man whose teeth need to be filed! Turn him around." The wooden-legged man turned me around to reveal the notice board, let him have a good look at it, and then turned me so that I faced Mr. Creeker, while he himself Sir aside.Mr. Creeker had a fierce face, with small, sunken eyes; a large vein on his forehead, a small nose, and a large chin.He was bald on the top and back of his head, and each temple was covered with thin, wet hairs that were just beginning to gray and met on his forehead.What impresses me the most about him is that he has no voice and can only speak in a low voice.When he spoke like this, because of nervousness, or because he consciously spoke in such a small voice, his already angry face became even more angry, and the big blue veins that popped out became thicker.Looking back on all this, I am not at all surprised that I then regarded these as his main characteristics.

"So," said Mr. Creeker, "is there any report about the student?" "Hasn't discovered any fault of his," replied the Wooden-legged man. "No chance." Mr. Creeker is disappointed, I think.I think Mrs. and Miss Creeker (I only glanced at them now, they are both thin and silent) were not disappointed. "Come here, sir!" Mr. Creeker waved to me. "Come here!" said the wooden-legged man, gesturing in the same way. "I had the pleasure of knowing your stepfather." Mr. Creeker whispered into my ear. "He was a wonderful man and a man of strong character. He knew me and I knew him. You know me Huh? " Mr. Creeker said, twisting my ears maliciously.

"Not yet, sir," I said through gritted teeth. "Not yet? Hey?" repeated Mr. Creeker, "but you soon will. Hey? " "You will soon. Hey?" the wooden-legged man repeated.Later, I found out that he always did this--using his rough voice to be Mr. Creeker's mouthpiece for the students to hear. I was frightened and said I hoped so, too, if it pleased him.He twisted my ears so painfully that I felt like my ears were burning. "I'm going to tell you who I am," whispered Mr. Creeker, and finally let go of my ear by twisting it hard.His last twist brought tears to my eyes. "I am a Tartar."

"A Tartar," said the wooden-legged man. "When I say I'm going to do something, I do it," said Mr. Creeker. "When I say I'm going to do something, I do it." "—When something is to be done, I will do it." The wooden-legged man repeated. "I'm a strong-willed man," Mr. Creeker said. "That's what I am. I do my job. That's what I do. My own blood—" he said Here, looking at Mrs. Creeker, "If it's against me, it's not my flesh and blood. I'll shake it off." He said to the wooden-legged man, "Has that kid been here again?"

"No." That was the answer. "No," said Mr. Creeker. "He's wiser. He understands me. Keep him out of the way. I say keep him out of the way." Mr. Creeker said, patting the table and Staring at Mrs. Creeker, "Because he understands me. You begin to understand me now, my little friend, and you can go. Take him away." I was so glad to have my order to go, and as Mrs. and Miss Creeker were wiping their eyes, I was as displeased for them as I was for myself.But I have a request in my heart, a request that is so important to me, that I cannot help saying it, though I don't know if I have enough courage.

"sorry sir--" Mr. Creeker whispered, "Ha! What?" He looked down at me, as if trying to burn me to ashes with his eyes. "Excuse me, sir," I stammered, "if I will be allowed (and I do regret what I did, sir) to remove this notice board before the students return to school—" Mr. Creeker jumped up from his chair, whether he was serious or just trying to scare me, I don't know, but I panicked before he walked away from the chair, before the wooden leg man escorted me Zhang Di withdrew and returned to my bedroom without stopping.When I got to the bedroom, I found no one chasing after me, so I went to bed because it was bedtime.I was shaking in bed for about two hours.

The next morning, Mr. Sharp returned.Mr. Sharp is the head teacher, above Mr. Meyer.Mr Mell dined with his students, while Mr Sharp shared breakfast and dinner with Mr Creeker.He's weak and looks a little weak, I think.His nose was huge, and his head was always tilted to one side, as if it was too heavy for him.His hair was smooth and curly, but the first student who came back told me it was a wig (a second-hand wig, the student said), and Mr. Sharp went to curl it every Saturday afternoon. I was told this by none other than Thomas Traddles.He is the first student to return to school.He introduced himself to me, saying that I could find his name on the top right-hand latch of that door; and I said, "Tradddle?" I told him about myself and my family in detail.

It was a blessing for me that Traddles was the first to go back to school.He was so interested in my notice board that whenever students came back to school, whether they were older or younger, he would immediately introduce me to them by saying, "Look here! A game!" or feel embarrassed.Fortunately, most of the students who returned to school were depressed and did not come to make fun of me as I first imagined.There were also people dancing around me like wild Indians, most of them couldn't help patting me like a dog, touching me so I wouldn't bite them, saying "Get down, sir!" I am Tao Yier.Being treated like this with so many strangers did embarrass me and brought me to tears, but overall, it was better than I expected.

I wasn't really accepted at school until Jan Steerforth came, though.Known as a man of great learning, he was also handsome, at least six years older than me, and I was brought before him as if I were brought before a judge.In a shed on the playground, he carefully asked me about my punishment, and then expressed his opinion in a carefully chosen sentence—"It's a shame." For this reason, I have been devoted to him ever since. "How much money do you have, Copperfield?" he said, summing up my incident in those few words, as we walked away with me. I told him I had seven shillings. "You'd better leave the money with me," he said. "At least, you can if you want to. If you don't want to, you don't have to." I hastily accepted his friendly suggestion, opened Peggotty's purse, and poured the money into his hand. "Are you going to spend some now?" he asked me. "No, thank you," I replied. "You can spend it if you want to, you know," said Steerforth. "Just say it." "No, thank you, sir," I said again. "Perhaps you'll want to spend two shillings later on for a bottle of wine to take to your dormitory?" said Steerforth. "I find you staying in my dormitory." Of course it never crossed my mind, but I said yes, I wanted to do that. "Very well," said Steerforth, "you'll be glad to have some candied cakes for another shilling or something, I dare say." I said yes, I want to do that too. "Another shilling for biscuits, and another for fruit, eh?" said Steerforth. "I say, young Copperfield, you're going to spend all your money." I smiled because he was laughing, but I felt a little uncomfortable. "Well!" said Steerforth, "we shall spend the money as well as we can, that's all. I'll help you as much as I can. I can get out of school if I want to, and I can smuggle food in." He said he put the money in his pocket, and told me very kindly that there is no need to worry, he will be careful, and everything will be fine. He keeps his word, and all is well, if you don't take into account my secret apprehension that I've wasted my mother's two and a half crowns, though I've saved the money from the pack. , that is a very precious memory.When we went up to bed he took out those seven shillings worth, and laid them on my bed in the moonlight, and said: "Behold, young Copperfield, you can throw a feast!" At my age, I couldn't imagine hosting a party with him by my side; my hands tremble just thinking about it.I asked him to preside for me, and the other students in my room supported my request, so he obliged and sat on my pillow to distribute the food - I must say he was very fair - —He passed the wine in a small glass without a stem, which was his property.As for me, I sat to his left, and the rest of us sat around us, on nearby beds or on the floor. We sat there talking in low voices; or rather they talked, and I listened, how well I remember that!The moonlight coming in through the window lit up a small spot on the floor, and drew a little window on the floor, where most of us sat in the shadows, except when Steerforth was looking for something on the table. When the match was thrown into the phosphor powder box, a fleeting blue light passed us by!The mystery of the darkness, the secret gathering, the whispering of whatever was said came over me again, and I listened to what they said to me with a vague sense of seriousness and awe. All, because of the feeling that I was glad they were so close to me, and it frightened me when Traddles meant to say that he saw a ghost in the corner (although I tried to laugh). I hear everything about the school and belonging to it.I have heard that Mr. Creeker is justified in calling himself a Tartar; of all the teachers he is the most stern and cruel.Every day he whipped around, to the left, to the right, and lashed at the students like a cavalryman without mercy.He knew nothing but whipping boys; Jay Steerforth said he was more ignorant than the dumbest boy in the school; The wife spent all her money before she came to run the school to make money; there are many other things like this, I don't know how they know. I heard that the wooden-legged man named Tung was a bull-tempered savage, who had once worked in the liquor industry, and because he broke his leg in the service of Mr. Creeker-as the students speculated- He had run a deceitful business and knew what he was doing, so he followed Mr. Creeker into the world of education.I also heard that, with the only exception of Mr. Creeker, Tung regards everyone in the school, whether teachers or students, as natural enemies.His sole pleasure in life is to act cruelly and viciously.I heard that Mr. Creeker has a son who doesn't get on well with Tung.The son, who also helped out at the school, once had a word with his father about the strictness of the school, and—presumably—protested his father's behavior towards his mother, and was caught by Crick. Mr. Er drove out the door; Since then, Mrs. and Miss Creeker have been unhappy. But the most remarkable thing I have heard about Mr. Creeker is that there is a boy in this school whom he would never have dared lay his hands on.This student was James Steerforth.When the matter was spoken of, Steerforth himself confirmed it, and said that he would like to see Mr. Creeker make a move.A very meek student (not me) asked him what he would do if he saw Crickle at work, and he threw a match into the phosphor box so that there would be a light on him while he answered, and said he Hit him on the forehead with the seven-and-a-half shilling bottle of ink that was always on the mantelpiece, and knocked him down.For a while, we sat in the dark, not daring to breathe. I have heard that both Mr. Sharpe and Mr. Mell are considered very poorly remunerated; and that, when Mr. Creeker's table had both cold and hot meat, Mr. Sharpe always said that he preferred it cold. It is also corroborated by the only student who was given preferential treatment to dine with - Jan Steerforth.I heard that Mr. Sharp's wig did not suit him, and that he had no reason to be so "smug"--some say "smug"--for his own red hair was clearly visible from behind him. I have heard of a coal merchant's son who went to school with his tuition paid against his coal account, so that he was called a "bill of exchange or exchange"--a name chosen from an arithmetic-book to denote this disposition.I have heard that at school Miss Creakle was thought to be in love with Steerforth; and as I sat in the dark I thought of his sweet voice, his handsome looks, his easy manners, and With his curly hair, I think it must be true.I heard that Mr Meyer was not a bad man of that sort, but had not a half shilling on him; old Mrs Meyer, his mother, was undoubtedly a pauper.So I thought about my breakfast, and I remembered that Joe's voice sounded like "My Charlie," but I'd been as secretive about it as a mouse. I listened until after the party, and for a while, to these and others.Most of the guests went to bed after eating and drinking. We were still talking or listening in low voices when we were still undressed, and finally went to bed. "Good night, young Copperfield," said Steerforth, "I'll take care of you." "You are very kind," I replied gratefully. "I really appreciate you." "You don't have a sister, do you?" said Steerforth, yawning. "No." I replied. "What a pity," said Steerforth. "If you had a sister, I think she'd be a pretty girl, timid, small, and bright-eyed. I'd love to make her acquaintance. Good-night, little Copperfield." "Good night, brother." I still thought about him when I was in bed, and I remember pulling myself up and looking over at him, and there he was lying in the moonlight, his head resting comfortably on one arm, his pretty face turned up.In my eyes, he was a man of great power, and of course that's why I can't forget him.There was no dim future to cast a gloomy shadow over him in the moonlight, nor was there a trace of his footsteps in the garden where I dreamed I wandered all night.