I left Salem House upon noon the next day, stopping in Yarmouth to be measured for my suit of black.  Then all too soon I was at home again, only it was home no longer, for my mother was not there.  Mr. Murdstone, who was weeping, took no notice of me.  Miss Murdstone gave me her cold fingers, and asked if I had been measured for my mourning, and if I had brought home my shirts.  There was no sign that they thought of my suffering, and—­alone—­except for dear faithful Peggotty, I remained there, motherless, and worse than fatherless, still stunned and giddy with the shock.  As soon as the funeral was over, Peggotty obtained permission to take me home with her for a visit, and I was thankful for the change, even though I knew that Peggotty was leaving the Rookery forever.

We found the old boat the same pleasant place as ever, only little Em’ly and I seldom wandered on the beach now.  She had tasks to learn, and needlework to do.  During the visit I had a great surprise, which was no less than Peggotty’s marriage to the carrier who had taken me on so many trips, and whose affections it seemed, had long been fastened upon Peggotty.  He took her to a nice little home, and there she showed me a room which she said would be mine whenever I chose to occupy it.  I felt the constancy of my dear old nurse, and thanked her as well as I could, but the next day I was obliged to go back to the Murdstones.  Peggotty made the journey with me, and no words can express my forlorn and desolate feelings when the cart took her away again, and I was left alone in the place where I used to be so happy.

And now I fell into a state of neglect, apart from other boys of my own age, and apart from all friendly faces.  What would I not have given to have been sent to school!  I think Mr. Murdstone’s means were straightened at that time, and there was no mention of Salem House or of any other school.  I was not beaten or starved, only coldly neglected.  Peggotty I was seldom allowed to visit, but once a week she either came to see me or met me somewhere, and that, and the dear old books were my only comfort.

One day Mr. Quinion, a visitor at the house, took pains to ask me some questions about myself, and afterwards Mr. Murdstone called me to him, and said: 

“I suppose you know, David, that I am not rich.  You have received some considerable education already.  Education is costly; and even if I could afford it, I am of opinion that it would not be at all advantageous to you to be kept at a school.  There is before you a fight with the world; and the sooner you begin it the better.  You may have heard of the counting house of Murdstone and Grinby, in the wine trade?  Mr. Quinion manages the business, and he suggests thit it gives employment to some other boys, and that he sees no reason why it shouldn’t give employment to you.  You will earn enough to provide for your eating, and drinking, and pocket money.  Your lodging will be paid by me.  So will your washing.  Your clothes will be looked after for you, too,” said Mr. Murdstone, “as you will not be able, yet awhile, to get them for yourself.  So you are now going to London, David, to begin the world on your own account.”