I can see the schoolroom now, into which he took me, with its long rows of desks and forms, and bristling all round with pegs for hats and slates.  Scraps of old copy-books and exercises littered the dirty floor, ink had been splashed everywhere, and the air of the place was indescribably dreary.  My companion left me there alone for a while, and as I roamed round, I came upon a pasteboard placard, beautifully written, lying on a desk, bearing these words, “Take care of him.  He bites.”

I got upon the desk immediately, apprehensive of at least a great dog underneath, but I could see nothing of him.  I was still peering about, when Mr. Mell came back, and asked what I did up there.

“I beg your pardon, sir,” said I, “I’m looking for the dog.”

“Dog,” said he, “What dog?”

“The one that’s to be taken care of, sir; that bites.”

“Copperfield,” said he, gravely, “that’s not a dog.  That’s a boy.  My instructions are, Copperfield, to put this placard on your back.  I am sorry to make such a beginning with you, but I must do it.”

With that he took me down, and tied the placard on my shoulders, and wherever I went afterwards I carried it.  What I suffered from that placard, nobody can imagine.  I always fancied that somebody was reading it, and I began to have a dread of myself, as a kind of wild boy who did bite.  Above and beyond all, I dreaded the coming back of the boys and what they might think of me, and my days and nights were filled with gloomy forebodings.  In a month Mr. Creakle, the proprietor of Salem House arrived.  He was stout, with a bald head, a fiery face, small, deep-set eyes, thick veins in his forehead, a little nose, and a large chin.  His face always looked angry, but what impressed me most about him was that he spoke always in a whisper.  He inquired at once about my behaviour, and seemed disappointed to find that there was nothing against me so far.  He then told me that he knew my stepfather as a man of strong character, and that he should carry out his wishes concerning me.  He pinched my ear with ferocious playfulness, and I was very much frightened by his manner and words; but before I was ordered away, I ventured to ask if the placard might not be removed.  Whether Mr. Creakle was in earnest, or only meant to frighten me, I don’t know, but he made a burst out of his chair, before which I precipitately retreated, and never once stopped until I reached my own bedroom, where, finding I was not pursued, I went to bed, and lay quaking for a couple of hours.

The next day the other masters and the scholars began to arrive.  Jolly Tommy Traddles was the first boy back, and it was a happy circumstance for me.  He enjoyed my placard so much that he saved me from the embarrassment of either disclosure or concealment, by presenting me to the other boys in this way; “Look here!  Here’s a game!” Happily, too, most of the boys came back low-spirited, and were not as boisterous at my expense as I expected.  Some of them did dance about me like wild Indians and pretended I was a dog, patting me and saying, “Lie down, sir!” and calling me Towzer, which of course was trying, but, on the whole, much better than I had anticipated.