The man directed him towards some houses on the heights, and thither David toiled; a forlorn little creature, without a jacket or waistcoat, his white hat crushed out of shape, his shoes worn out, his shirt and trousers torn and stained, his pretty curly hair tangled, his face and hands sunburnt, and covered with dust. Lifting his big, wistful eyes to one of the windows above, he saw a pleasant faced gentleman with grey hair, who nodded at him several times, then shook his head and went away. David was just turning away to think what he should do, when a tall, erect, elderly lady, with a gardening apron on and a knife in her hand, came out of the house, and began to dig up a root in the garden. "Go away," she cried. "Go away. No boys here." But David felt desperate. Going in softly, he stood beside her, and touched her with his finger, and said timidly, "If you please, ma'am--" and when she looked up, he went on-- "Please, aunt, I am your nephew." "Oh, Lord!" she exclaimed in astonishment, and sat flat down on the path, staring at him, while he went on-- "I am David Copperfield, of Blunderstone, in Suffolk, where you came the night I was born, and saw my dear mamma. I have been unhappy since she died. I have been slighted and taught nothing, and thrown upon myself, and put to work not fit for me. It made me run away to you. I was robbed at first starting out and have walked all the way, and have never slept in a bed since I began the journey." Here he broke into a passion of crying, and his aunt jumped up and took him into the house, where she put him on the sofa and sent the servant to ask "Mr. Dick" to come down. The gentleman whom David had seen at the window came in and was told who the ragged little object on the sofa was. "Now here you see young David Copperfield, and the question is What shall I do with him?" "Do with him?" answered Mr. Dick. Then, after some consideration, and looking at David, he said, "Well, if I was you, I would wash him!" David knelt down to say his prayers that night in a pleasant room facing the sea, and as he lay in the clean, snow-white bed, he prayed he might never be homeless again, and might never forget the homeless. The next morning his aunt told him she had written to Mr. Murdstone, and at last Mr. and Miss Murdstone arrived. Mr. Murdstone told Miss Betsy that David was a very bad, stubborn, violent-tempered boy, whom he had tried to improve, but could not succeed. If Miss Trotwood chose to protect and encourage him now, she must do it always, for he had come to fetch him away. "Are you ready to go, David?" asked his aunt. But David answered no, and begged and prayed her for his father's sake to befriend and protect him, for neither Mr. nor Miss Murdstone had ever liked him or been kind to him. "Mr. Dick," said Miss Trotwood, "what shall I do with this child?" Mr. Dick considered. "Have him measured for a suit of clothes directly."