["[Event happened on 2024-01-01 The user is reading a book]\n<User> For anything I know, I may have had some wild idea of running all the\nway to Dover, when I gave up the pursuit of the young man with the\ndonkey-cart, and started for Greenwich. My scattered senses were soon\ncollected as to that point, if I had; for I came to a stop in the Kent\nRoad, at a terrace with a piece of water before it, and a great foolish\nimage in the middle, blowing a dry shell. Here I sat down on a doorstep,\nquite spent and exhausted with the efforts I had already made, and with\nhardly breath enough to cry for the loss of my box and half-guinea. It was by this time dark; I heard the clocks strike ten, as I sat\nresting. But it was a summer night, fortunately, and fine weather. When\nI had recovered my breath, and had got rid of a stifling sensation in\nmy throat, I rose up and went on. In the midst of my distress, I had no\nnotion of going back. I doubt if I should have had any, though there had\nbeen a Swiss snow-drift in the Kent Road. But my standing possessed of only three-halfpence in the world (and I\nam sure I wonder how they came to be left in my pocket on a Saturday\nnight!) troubled me none the less because I went on. I began to picture\nto myself, as a scrap of newspaper intelligence, my being found dead in\na day or two, under some hedge; and I trudged on miserably, though as\nfast as I could, until I happened to pass a little shop, where it was\nwritten up that ladies' and gentlemen's wardrobes were bought, and that\nthe best price was given for rags, bones, and kitchen-stuff. The master\nof this shop was sitting at the door in his shirt-sleeves, smoking; and\nas there were a great many coats and pairs of trousers dangling from\nthe low ceiling, and only two feeble candles burning inside to show\nwhat they were, I fancied that he looked like a man of a revengeful\ndisposition, who had hung all his enemies, and was enjoying himself. My late experiences with Mr. and Mrs. Micawber suggested to me that here\nmight be a means of keeping off the wolf for a little while. I went up\nthe next by-street, took off my waistcoat, rolled it neatly under my\narm, and came back to the shop door. 'If you please, sir,' I said, 'I am to sell this for a fair price.' Mr. Dolloby--Dolloby was the name over the shop door, at least--took the\nwaistcoat, stood his pipe on its head, against the door-post, went into\nthe shop, followed by me, snuffed the two candles with his fingers,\nspread the waistcoat on the counter, and looked at it there, held it up\nagainst the light, and looked at it there, and ultimately said:\n\n'What do you call a price, now, for this here little weskit?' 'Oh! you know best, sir,' I returned modestly. 'I can't be buyer and seller too,' said Mr. Dolloby. 'Put a price on\nthis here little weskit.' 'Would eighteenpence be?' --I hinted, after some hesitation. Mr. Dolloby rolled it up again, and gave it me back. 'I should rob my\nfamily,' he said, 'if I was to offer ninepence for it.' This was a disagreeable way of putting the business; because it imposed\nupon me, a perfect stranger, the unpleasantness of asking Mr. Dolloby to\nrob his family on my account. My circumstances being so very pressing,\nhowever, I said I would take ninepence for it, if he pleased. Mr.\nDolloby, not without some grumbling, gave ninepence. I wished him good\nnight, and walked out of the shop the richer by that sum, and the\npoorer by a waistcoat. But when I buttoned my jacket, that was not much. Indeed, I foresaw pretty clearly that my jacket would go next, and that\nI should have to make the best of my way to Dover in a shirt and a pair\nof trousers, and might deem myself lucky if I got there even in that\ntrim. But my mind did not run so much on this as might be supposed. Beyond a general impression of the distance before me, and of the young\nman with the donkey-cart having used me cruelly, I think I had no\nvery urgent sense of my difficulties when I once again set off with my\nninepence in my pocket. A plan had occurred to me for passing the night, which I was going to\ncarry into execution. This was, to lie behind the wall at the back of my\nold school, in a corner where there used to be a haystack. I imagined\nit would be a kind of company to have the boys, and the bedroom where\nI used to tell the stories, so near me: although the boys would know\nnothing of my being there, and the bedroom would yield me no shelter. I had had a hard day's work, and was pretty well jaded when I came\nclimbing out, at last, upon the level of Blackheath. It cost me some\ntrouble to find out Salem House; but I found it, and I found a haystack\nin the corner, and I lay down by it; having first walked round the wall,\nand looked up at the windows, and seen that all was dark and silent\nwithin. Never shall I forget the lonely sensation of first lying down,\nwithout a roof above my head! Sleep came upon me as it came on many other outcasts, against whom\nhouse-doors were locked, and house-dogs barked, that night--and I\ndreamed of lying on my old school-bed, talking to the boys in my room;\nand found myself sitting upright, with Steerforth's name upon my lips,\nlooking wildly at the stars that were glistening and glimmering above\nme. When I remembered where I was at that untimely hour, a feeling\nstole upon me that made me get up, afraid of I don't know what, and walk\nabout. But the fainter glimmering of the stars, and the pale light in\nthe sky where the day was coming, reassured me: and my eyes being very\nheavy, I lay down again and slept--though with a knowledge in my sleep\nthat it was cold--until the warm beams of the sun, and the ringing of\nthe getting-up bell at Salem House, awoke me. If I could have hoped that\nSteerforth was there, I would have lurked about until he came out\nalone; but I knew he must have left long since. Traddles still remained,\nperhaps, but it was very doubtful; and I had not sufficient confidence\nin his discretion or good luck, however strong my reliance was on his\ngood nature, to wish to trust him with my situation. So I crept away\nfrom the wall as Mr. Creakle's boys were getting up, and struck into the\nlong dusty track which I had first known to be the Dover Road when I was\none of them, and when I little expected that any eyes would ever see me\nthe wayfarer I was now, upon it. What a different Sunday morning from the old Sunday morning at Yarmouth! In due time I heard the church-bells ringing, as I plodded on; and I met\npeople who were going to church; and I passed a church or two where the\ncongregation were inside, and the sound of singing came out into the\nsunshine, while the beadle sat and cooled himself in the shade of the\nporch, or stood beneath the yew-tree, with his hand to his forehead,\nglowering at me going by. But the peace and rest of the old Sunday\nmorning were on everything, except me. That was the difference. I felt\nquite wicked in my dirt and dust, with my tangled hair. But for the\nquiet picture I had conjured up, of my mother in her youth and beauty,\nweeping by the fire, and my aunt relenting to her, I hardly think I\nshould have had the courage to go on until next day. But it always went\nbefore me, and I followed. I got, that Sunday, through three-and-twenty miles on the straight\nroad, though not very easily, for I was new to that kind of toil. I\nsee myself, as evening closes in, coming over the bridge at Rochester,\nfootsore and tired, and eating bread that I had bought for supper. One or two little houses, with the notice, 'Lodgings for Travellers',\nhanging out, had tempted me; but I was afraid of spending the few pence\nI had, and was even more afraid of the vicious looks of the trampers I\nhad met or overtaken.\n\n<System> Please remember what the user reads on 2024-01-01, save the details within the book, and retain a summary of the book the user has read so far.", "[Event happened on 2024-01-03 The user is reading a book]\n<User> I sought no shelter, therefore, but the sky; and\ntoiling into Chatham,--which, in that night's aspect, is a mere dream of\nchalk, and drawbridges, and mastless ships in a muddy river, roofed\nlike Noah's arks,--crept, at last, upon a sort of grass-grown battery\noverhanging a lane, where a sentry was walking to and fro. Here I\nlay down, near a cannon; and, happy in the society of the sentry's\nfootsteps, though he knew no more of my being above him than the boys\nat Salem House had known of my lying by the wall, slept soundly until\nmorning. Very stiff and sore of foot I was in the morning, and quite dazed by the\nbeating of drums and marching of troops, which seemed to hem me in on\nevery side when I went down towards the long narrow street. Feeling\nthat I could go but a very little way that day, if I were to reserve any\nstrength for getting to my journey's end, I resolved to make the sale\nof my jacket its principal business. Accordingly, I took the jacket off,\nthat I might learn to do without it; and carrying it under my arm, began\na tour of inspection of the various slop-shops. It was a likely place to sell a jacket in; for the dealers in\nsecond-hand clothes were numerous, and were, generally speaking, on the\nlook-out for customers at their shop doors. But as most of them had,\nhanging up among their stock, an officer's coat or two, epaulettes and\nall, I was rendered timid by the costly nature of their dealings, and\nwalked about for a long time without offering my merchandise to anyone. This modesty of mine directed my attention to the marine-store shops,\nand such shops as Mr. Dolloby's, in preference to the regular dealers. At last I found one that I thought looked promising, at the corner of a\ndirty lane, ending in an enclosure full of stinging-nettles, against the\npalings of which some second-hand sailors' clothes, that seemed to have\noverflowed the shop, were fluttering among some cots, and rusty guns,\nand oilskin hats, and certain trays full of so many old rusty keys of so\nmany sizes that they seemed various enough to open all the doors in the\nworld. Into this shop, which was low and small, and which was darkened\nrather than lighted by a little window, overhung with clothes, and was\ndescended into by some steps, I went with a palpitating heart; which was\nnot relieved when an ugly old man, with the lower part of his face all\ncovered with a stubbly grey beard, rushed out of a dirty den behind it,\nand seized me by the hair of my head. He was a dreadful old man to look\nat, in a filthy flannel waistcoat, and smelling terribly of rum. His\nbedstead, covered with a tumbled and ragged piece of patchwork, was in\nthe den he had come from, where another little window showed a prospect\nof more stinging-nettles, and a lame donkey. 'Oh, what do you want?' grinned this old man, in a fierce, monotonous\nwhine. 'Oh, my eyes and limbs, what do you want? Oh, my lungs and liver,\nwhat do you want? Oh, goroo, goroo!' I was so much dismayed by these words, and particularly by the\nrepetition of the last unknown one, which was a kind of rattle in his\nthroat, that I could make no answer; hereupon the old man, still holding\nme by the hair, repeated:\n\n'Oh, what do you want? Oh, my eyes and limbs, what do you want? Oh, my\nlungs and liver, what do you want? Oh, goroo!' --which he screwed out of\nhimself, with an energy that made his eyes start in his head. 'I wanted to know,' I said, trembling, 'if you would buy a jacket.' 'Oh, let's see the jacket!' cried the old man. 'Oh, my heart on fire,\nshow the jacket to us! Oh, my eyes and limbs, bring the jacket out!' With that he took his trembling hands, which were like the claws of a\ngreat bird, out of my hair; and put on a pair of spectacles, not at all\nornamental to his inflamed eyes. 'Oh, how much for the jacket?' cried the old man, after examining it. 'Oh--goroo!--how much for the jacket?' 'Half-a-crown,' I answered, recovering myself. 'Oh, my lungs and liver,' cried the old man, 'no! Oh, my eyes, no! Oh,\nmy limbs, no! Eighteenpence. Goroo!' Every time he uttered this ejaculation, his eyes seemed to be in danger\nof starting out; and every sentence he spoke, he delivered in a sort\nof tune, always exactly the same, and more like a gust of wind, which\nbegins low, mounts up high, and falls again, than any other comparison I\ncan find for it. 'Well,' said I, glad to have closed the bargain, 'I'll take\neighteenpence.' 'Oh, my liver!' cried the old man, throwing the jacket on a shelf. 'Get\nout of the shop! Oh, my lungs, get out of the shop! Oh, my eyes and\nlimbs--goroo!--don't ask for money; make it an exchange.' I never was\nso frightened in my life, before or since; but I told him humbly that\nI wanted money, and that nothing else was of any use to me, but that I\nwould wait for it, as he desired, outside, and had no wish to hurry\nhim. So I went outside, and sat down in the shade in a corner. And I sat\nthere so many hours, that the shade became sunlight, and the sunlight\nbecame shade again, and still I sat there waiting for the money. There never was such another drunken madman in that line of business,\nI hope. That he was well known in the neighbourhood, and enjoyed the\nreputation of having sold himself to the devil, I soon understood from\nthe visits he received from the boys, who continually came skirmishing\nabout the shop, shouting that legend, and calling to him to bring out\nhis gold. 'You ain't poor, you know, Charley, as you pretend. Bring out\nyour gold. Bring out some of the gold you sold yourself to the devil\nfor. Come! It's in the lining of the mattress, Charley. Rip it open\nand let's have some!' This, and many offers to lend him a knife for\nthe purpose, exasperated him to such a degree, that the whole day was a\nsuccession of rushes on his part, and flights on the part of the boys. Sometimes in his rage he would take me for one of them, and come at me,\nmouthing as if he were going to tear me in pieces; then, remembering\nme, just in time, would dive into the shop, and lie upon his bed, as I\nthought from the sound of his voice, yelling in a frantic way, to his\nown windy tune, the 'Death of Nelson'; with an Oh! before every line,\nand innumerable Goroos interspersed. As if this were not bad enough for\nme, the boys, connecting me with the establishment, on account of the\npatience and perseverance with which I sat outside, half-dressed, pelted\nme, and used me very ill all day. He made many attempts to induce me to consent to an exchange; at one\ntime coming out with a fishing-rod, at another with a fiddle, at another\nwith a cocked hat, at another with a flute. But I resisted all these\novertures, and sat there in desperation; each time asking him, with\ntears in my eyes, for my money or my jacket. At last he began to pay me\nin halfpence at a time; and was full two hours getting by easy stages to\na shilling. 'Oh, my eyes and limbs!' he then cried, peeping hideously out of the\nshop, after a long pause, 'will you go for twopence more?' 'I can't,' I said; 'I shall be starved.' 'Oh, my lungs and liver, will you go for threepence?' 'I would go for nothing, if I could,' I said, 'but I want the money\nbadly.' 'Oh, go-roo!' (it is really impossible to express how he twisted this\nejaculation out of himself, as he peeped round the door-post at me,\nshowing nothing but his crafty old head); 'will you go for fourpence?' I was so faint and weary that I closed with this offer; and taking the\nmoney out of his claw, not without trembling, went away more hungry and\nthirsty than I had ever been, a little before sunset.\n\n<System> Please remember what the user reads on 2024-01-03, save the details within the book, and retain a summary of the book the user has read so far.", "[Event happened on 2024-01-05 The user is reading a book]\n<User> But at an expense\nof threepence I soon refreshed myself completely; and, being in better\nspirits then, limped seven miles upon my road. My bed at night was under another haystack, where I rested comfortably,\nafter having washed my blistered feet in a stream, and dressed them as\nwell as I was able, with some cool leaves. When I took the road again\nnext morning, I found that it lay through a succession of hop-grounds\nand orchards. It was sufficiently late in the year for the orchards\nto be ruddy with ripe apples; and in a few places the hop-pickers were\nalready at work. I thought it all extremely beautiful, and made up\nmy mind to sleep among the hops that night: imagining some cheerful\ncompanionship in the long perspectives of poles, with the graceful\nleaves twining round them. The trampers were worse than ever that day, and inspired me with a\ndread that is yet quite fresh in my mind. Some of them were most\nferocious-looking ruffians, who stared at me as I went by; and stopped,\nperhaps, and called after me to come back and speak to them, and when I\ntook to my heels, stoned me. I recollect one young fellow--a tinker, I\nsuppose, from his wallet and brazier--who had a woman with him, and\nwho faced about and stared at me thus; and then roared to me in such a\ntremendous voice to come back, that I halted and looked round. 'Come here, when you're called,' said the tinker, 'or I'll rip your\nyoung body open.' I thought it best to go back. As I drew nearer to them, trying to\npropitiate the tinker by my looks, I observed that the woman had a black\neye. 'Where are you going?' said the tinker, gripping the bosom of my shirt\nwith his blackened hand. 'I am going to Dover,' I said. 'Where do you come from?' asked the tinker, giving his hand another turn\nin my shirt, to hold me more securely. 'I come from London,' I said. 'What lay are you upon?' asked the tinker. 'Are you a prig?' 'N-no,' I said. 'Ain't you, by G--? If you make a brag of your honesty to me,' said the\ntinker, 'I'll knock your brains out.' With his disengaged hand he made a menace of striking me, and then\nlooked at me from head to foot. 'Have you got the price of a pint of beer about you?' said the tinker. 'If you have, out with it, afore I take it away!' I should certainly have produced it, but that I met the woman's look,\nand saw her very slightly shake her head, and form 'No!' with her lips. 'I am very poor,' I said, attempting to smile, 'and have got no money.' 'Why, what do you mean?' said the tinker, looking so sternly at me, that\nI almost feared he saw the money in my pocket. 'Sir!' I stammered. 'What do you mean,' said the tinker, 'by wearing my brother's silk\nhandkerchief! Give it over here!' And he had mine off my neck in a\nmoment, and tossed it to the woman. The woman burst into a fit of laughter, as if she thought this a joke,\nand tossed it back to me, nodded once, as slightly as before, and made\nthe word 'Go!' with her lips. Before I could obey, however, the tinker\nseized the handkerchief out of my hand with a roughness that threw me\naway like a feather, and putting it loosely round his own neck, turned\nupon the woman with an oath, and knocked her down. I never shall forget\nseeing her fall backward on the hard road, and lie there with her bonnet\ntumbled off, and her hair all whitened in the dust; nor, when I looked\nback from a distance, seeing her sitting on the pathway, which was a\nbank by the roadside, wiping the blood from her face with a corner of\nher shawl, while he went on ahead. This adventure frightened me so, that, afterwards, when I saw any of\nthese people coming, I turned back until I could find a hiding-place,\nwhere I remained until they had gone out of sight; which happened so\noften, that I was very seriously delayed. But under this difficulty, as\nunder all the other difficulties of my journey, I seemed to be sustained\nand led on by my fanciful picture of my mother in her youth, before I\ncame into the world. It always kept me company. It was there, among\nthe hops, when I lay down to sleep; it was with me on my waking in the\nmorning; it went before me all day. I have associated it, ever since,\nwith the sunny street of Canterbury, dozing as it were in the hot light;\nand with the sight of its old houses and gateways, and the stately,\ngrey Cathedral, with the rooks sailing round the towers. When I came,\nat last, upon the bare, wide downs near Dover, it relieved the solitary\naspect of the scene with hope; and not until I reached that first great\naim of my journey, and actually set foot in the town itself, on the\nsixth day of my flight, did it desert me. But then, strange to say,\nwhen I stood with my ragged shoes, and my dusty, sunburnt, half-clothed\nfigure, in the place so long desired, it seemed to vanish like a dream,\nand to leave me helpless and dispirited. I inquired about my aunt among the boatmen first, and received various\nanswers. One said she lived in the South Foreland Light, and had singed\nher whiskers by doing so; another, that she was made fast to the great\nbuoy outside the harbour, and could only be visited at half-tide; a\nthird, that she was locked up in Maidstone jail for child-stealing; a\nfourth, that she was seen to mount a broom in the last high wind, and\nmake direct for Calais. The fly-drivers, among whom I inquired next,\nwere equally jocose and equally disrespectful; and the shopkeepers, not\nliking my appearance, generally replied, without hearing what I had\nto say, that they had got nothing for me. I felt more miserable and\ndestitute than I had done at any period of my running away. My money was\nall gone, I had nothing left to dispose of; I was hungry, thirsty, and\nworn out; and seemed as distant from my end as if I had remained in\nLondon. The morning had worn away in these inquiries, and I was sitting on\nthe step of an empty shop at a street corner, near the market-place,\ndeliberating upon wandering towards those other places which had been\nmentioned, when a fly-driver, coming by with his carriage, dropped a\nhorsecloth. Something good-natured in the man's face, as I handed it up,\nencouraged me to ask him if he could tell me where Miss Trotwood lived;\nthough I had asked the question so often, that it almost died upon my\nlips. 'Trotwood,' said he. 'Let me see. I know the name, too. Old lady?' 'Yes,' I said, 'rather.' 'Pretty stiff in the back?' said he, making himself upright. 'Yes,' I said. 'I should think it very likely.' 'Carries a bag?' said he--'bag with a good deal of room in it--is\ngruffish, and comes down upon you, sharp?' My heart sank within me as I acknowledged the undoubted accuracy of this\ndescription. 'Why then, I tell you what,' said he. 'If you go up there,' pointing\nwith his whip towards the heights, 'and keep right on till you come to\nsome houses facing the sea, I think you'll hear of her. My opinion is\nshe won't stand anything, so here's a penny for you.' I accepted the gift thankfully, and bought a loaf with it. Dispatching\nthis refreshment by the way, I went in the direction my friend had\nindicated, and walked on a good distance without coming to the houses\nhe had mentioned. At length I saw some before me; and approaching them,\nwent into a little shop (it was what we used to call a general shop,\nat home), and inquired if they could have the goodness to tell me where\nMiss Trotwood lived. I addressed myself to a man behind the counter,\nwho was weighing some rice for a young woman; but the latter, taking the\ninquiry to herself, turned round quickly. 'My mistress?' she said. 'What do you want with her, boy?' 'I want,' I replied, 'to speak to her, if you please.' 'To beg of her, you mean,' retorted the damsel. 'No,' I said, 'indeed.' But suddenly remembering that in truth I came\nfor no other purpose, I held my peace in confusion, and felt my face\nburn.\n\n<System> Please remember what the user reads on 2024-01-05, save the details within the book, and retain a summary of the book the user has read so far.", "[Event happened on 2024-01-07 The user is reading a book]\n<User> My aunt's handmaid, as I supposed she was from what she had said, put\nher rice in a little basket and walked out of the shop; telling me that\nI could follow her, if I wanted to know where Miss Trotwood lived. I\nneeded no second permission; though I was by this time in such a state\nof consternation and agitation, that my legs shook under me. I followed\nthe young woman, and we soon came to a very neat little cottage with\ncheerful bow-windows: in front of it, a small square gravelled court or\ngarden full of flowers, carefully tended, and smelling deliciously. 'This is Miss Trotwood's,' said the young woman. 'Now you know; and\nthat's all I have got to say.' With which words she hurried into the\nhouse, as if to shake off the responsibility of my appearance; and left\nme standing at the garden-gate, looking disconsolately over the top of\nit towards the parlour window, where a muslin curtain partly undrawn\nin the middle, a large round green screen or fan fastened on to the\nwindowsill, a small table, and a great chair, suggested to me that my\naunt might be at that moment seated in awful state. My shoes were by this time in a woeful condition. The soles had shed\nthemselves bit by bit, and the upper leathers had broken and burst until\nthe very shape and form of shoes had departed from them. My hat (which\nhad served me for a night-cap, too) was so crushed and bent, that no old\nbattered handleless saucepan on a dunghill need have been ashamed to vie\nwith it. My shirt and trousers, stained with heat, dew, grass, and\nthe Kentish soil on which I had slept--and torn besides--might have\nfrightened the birds from my aunt's garden, as I stood at the gate. My\nhair had known no comb or brush since I left London. My face, neck, and\nhands, from unaccustomed exposure to the air and sun, were burnt to a\nberry-brown. From head to foot I was powdered almost as white with chalk\nand dust, as if I had come out of a lime-kiln. In this plight, and with\na strong consciousness of it, I waited to introduce myself to, and make\nmy first impression on, my formidable aunt. The unbroken stillness of the parlour window leading me to infer, after\na while, that she was not there, I lifted up my eyes to the window above\nit, where I saw a florid, pleasant-looking gentleman, with a grey head,\nwho shut up one eye in a grotesque manner, nodded his head at me several\ntimes, shook it at me as often, laughed, and went away. I had been discomposed enough before; but I was so much the more\ndiscomposed by this unexpected behaviour, that I was on the point of\nslinking off, to think how I had best proceed, when there came out of\nthe house a lady with her handkerchief tied over her cap, and a pair\nof gardening gloves on her hands, wearing a gardening pocket like a\ntoll-man's apron, and carrying a great knife. I knew her immediately\nto be Miss Betsey, for she came stalking out of the house exactly as\nmy poor mother had so often described her stalking up our garden at\nBlunderstone Rookery. 'Go away!' said Miss Betsey, shaking her head, and making a distant chop\nin the air with her knife. 'Go along! No boys here!' I watched her, with my heart at my lips, as she marched to a corner of\nher garden, and stooped to dig up some little root there. Then, without\na scrap of courage, but with a great deal of desperation, I went softly\nin and stood beside her, touching her with my finger. 'If you please, ma'am,' I began. She started and looked up. 'If you please, aunt.' 'EH?' exclaimed Miss Betsey, in a tone of amazement I have never heard\napproached. 'If you please, aunt, I am your nephew.' 'Oh, Lord!' said my aunt. And sat flat down in the garden-path. 'I am David Copperfield, of Blunderstone, in Suffolk--where you came,\non the night when I was born, and saw my dear mama. I have been very\nunhappy since she died. I have been slighted, and taught nothing, and\nthrown upon myself, and put to work not fit for me. It made me run away\nto you. I was robbed at first setting out, and have walked all the\nway, and have never slept in a bed since I began the journey.' Here\nmy self-support gave way all at once; and with a movement of my hands,\nintended to show her my ragged state, and call it to witness that I had\nsuffered something, I broke into a passion of crying, which I suppose\nhad been pent up within me all the week. My aunt, with every sort of expression but wonder discharged from her\ncountenance, sat on the gravel, staring at me, until I began to cry;\nwhen she got up in a great hurry, collared me, and took me into the\nparlour. Her first proceeding there was to unlock a tall press, bring\nout several bottles, and pour some of the contents of each into my\nmouth. I think they must have been taken out at random, for I am sure\nI tasted aniseed water, anchovy sauce, and salad dressing. When she had\nadministered these restoratives, as I was still quite hysterical, and\nunable to control my sobs, she put me on the sofa, with a shawl under\nmy head, and the handkerchief from her own head under my feet, lest I\nshould sully the cover; and then, sitting herself down behind the green\nfan or screen I have already mentioned, so that I could not see her\nface, ejaculated at intervals, 'Mercy on us!' letting those exclamations\noff like minute guns. After a time she rang the bell. 'Janet,' said my aunt, when her servant\ncame in. 'Go upstairs, give my compliments to Mr. Dick, and say I wish\nto speak to him.' Janet looked a little surprised to see me lying stiffly on the sofa (I\nwas afraid to move lest it should be displeasing to my aunt), but went\non her errand. My aunt, with her hands behind her, walked up and down\nthe room, until the gentleman who had squinted at me from the upper\nwindow came in laughing. 'Mr. Dick,' said my aunt, 'don't be a fool, because nobody can be more\ndiscreet than you can, when you choose. We all know that. So don't be a\nfool, whatever you are.' The gentleman was serious immediately, and looked at me, I thought, as\nif he would entreat me to say nothing about the window. 'Mr. Dick,' said my aunt, 'you have heard me mention David Copperfield? Now don't pretend not to have a memory, because you and I know better.' 'David Copperfield?' said Mr. Dick, who did not appear to me to\nremember much about it. 'David Copperfield? Oh yes, to be sure. David,\ncertainly.' 'Well,' said my aunt, 'this is his boy--his son. He would be as like his\nfather as it's possible to be, if he was not so like his mother, too.' 'His son?' said Mr. Dick. 'David's son? Indeed!' 'Yes,' pursued my aunt, 'and he has done a pretty piece of business. He has run away. Ah! His sister, Betsey Trotwood, never would have run\naway.' My aunt shook her head firmly, confident in the character and\nbehaviour of the girl who never was born. 'Oh! you think she wouldn't have run away?' said Mr. Dick. 'Bless and save the man,' exclaimed my aunt, sharply, 'how he talks! Don't I know she wouldn't? She would have lived with her god-mother,\nand we should have been devoted to one another. Where, in the name of\nwonder, should his sister, Betsey Trotwood, have run from, or to?' 'Nowhere,' said Mr. Dick. 'Well then,' returned my aunt, softened by the reply, 'how can you\npretend to be wool-gathering, Dick, when you are as sharp as a surgeon's\nlancet? Now, here you see young David Copperfield, and the question I\nput to you is, what shall I do with him?' 'What shall you do with him?' said Mr. Dick, feebly, scratching his\nhead. 'Oh! do with him?' 'Yes,' said my aunt, with a grave look, and her forefinger held up. 'Come! I want some very sound advice.'\n\n<System> Please remember what the user reads on 2024-01-07, save the details within the book, and retain a summary of the book the user has read so far.", "[Event happened on 2024-01-09 The user is reading a book]\n<User> 'Why, if I was you,' said Mr. Dick, considering, and looking vacantly\nat me, 'I should--' The contemplation of me seemed to inspire him with a\nsudden idea, and he added, briskly, 'I should wash him!' 'Janet,' said my aunt, turning round with a quiet triumph, which I did\nnot then understand, 'Mr. Dick sets us all right. Heat the bath!' Although I was deeply interested in this dialogue, I could not help\nobserving my aunt, Mr. Dick, and Janet, while it was in progress, and\ncompleting a survey I had already been engaged in making of the room. My aunt was a tall, hard-featured lady, but by no means ill-looking. There was an inflexibility in her face, in her voice, in her gait and\ncarriage, amply sufficient to account for the effect she had made upon\na gentle creature like my mother; but her features were rather handsome\nthan otherwise, though unbending and austere. I particularly noticed\nthat she had a very quick, bright eye. Her hair, which was grey, was\narranged in two plain divisions, under what I believe would be called a\nmob-cap; I mean a cap, much more common then than now, with side-pieces\nfastening under the chin. Her dress was of a lavender colour, and\nperfectly neat; but scantily made, as if she desired to be as little\nencumbered as possible. I remember that I thought it, in form, more like\na riding-habit with the superfluous skirt cut off, than anything else. She wore at her side a gentleman's gold watch, if I might judge from its\nsize and make, with an appropriate chain and seals; she had some linen\nat her throat not unlike a shirt-collar, and things at her wrists like\nlittle shirt-wristbands. Mr. Dick, as I have already said, was grey-headed, and florid: I should\nhave said all about him, in saying so, had not his head been curiously\nbowed--not by age; it reminded me of one of Mr. Creakle's boys' heads\nafter a beating--and his grey eyes prominent and large, with a strange\nkind of watery brightness in them that made me, in combination with his\nvacant manner, his submission to my aunt, and his childish delight when\nshe praised him, suspect him of being a little mad; though, if he were\nmad, how he came to be there puzzled me extremely. He was dressed\nlike any other ordinary gentleman, in a loose grey morning coat and\nwaistcoat, and white trousers; and had his watch in his fob, and his\nmoney in his pockets: which he rattled as if he were very proud of it. Janet was a pretty blooming girl, of about nineteen or twenty, and a\nperfect picture of neatness. Though I made no further observation of\nher at the moment, I may mention here what I did not discover until\nafterwards, namely, that she was one of a series of protegees whom my\naunt had taken into her service expressly to educate in a renouncement\nof mankind, and who had generally completed their abjuration by marrying\nthe baker. The room was as neat as Janet or my aunt. As I laid down my pen, a\nmoment since, to think of it, the air from the sea came blowing\nin again, mixed with the perfume of the flowers; and I saw the\nold-fashioned furniture brightly rubbed and polished, my aunt's\ninviolable chair and table by the round green fan in the bow-window, the\ndrugget-covered carpet, the cat, the kettle-holder, the two canaries,\nthe old china, the punchbowl full of dried rose-leaves, the tall press\nguarding all sorts of bottles and pots, and, wonderfully out of keeping\nwith the rest, my dusty self upon the sofa, taking note of everything. Janet had gone away to get the bath ready, when my aunt, to my great\nalarm, became in one moment rigid with indignation, and had hardly voice\nto cry out, 'Janet! Donkeys!' Upon which, Janet came running up the stairs as if the house were in\nflames, darted out on a little piece of green in front, and warned off\ntwo saddle-donkeys, lady-ridden, that had presumed to set hoof upon it;\nwhile my aunt, rushing out of the house, seized the bridle of a third\nanimal laden with a bestriding child, turned him, led him forth from\nthose sacred precincts, and boxed the ears of the unlucky urchin in\nattendance who had dared to profane that hallowed ground. To this hour I don't know whether my aunt had any lawful right of way\nover that patch of green; but she had settled it in her own mind that\nshe had, and it was all the same to her. The one great outrage of her\nlife, demanding to be constantly avenged, was the passage of a donkey\nover that immaculate spot. In whatever occupation she was engaged,\nhowever interesting to her the conversation in which she was taking\npart, a donkey turned the current of her ideas in a moment, and she was\nupon him straight. Jugs of water, and watering-pots, were kept in secret\nplaces ready to be discharged on the offending boys; sticks were laid\nin ambush behind the door; sallies were made at all hours; and\nincessant war prevailed. Perhaps this was an agreeable excitement to the\ndonkey-boys; or perhaps the more sagacious of the donkeys, understanding\nhow the case stood, delighted with constitutional obstinacy in coming\nthat way. I only know that there were three alarms before the bath was\nready; and that on the occasion of the last and most desperate of all,\nI saw my aunt engage, single-handed, with a sandy-headed lad of fifteen,\nand bump his sandy head against her own gate, before he seemed to\ncomprehend what was the matter. These interruptions were of the more\nridiculous to me, because she was giving me broth out of a table-spoon\nat the time (having firmly persuaded herself that I was actually\nstarving, and must receive nourishment at first in very small\nquantities), and, while my mouth was yet open to receive the spoon, she\nwould put it back into the basin, cry 'Janet! Donkeys!' and go out to\nthe assault. The bath was a great comfort. For I began to be sensible of acute pains\nin my limbs from lying out in the fields, and was now so tired and low\nthat I could hardly keep myself awake for five minutes together. When I\nhad bathed, they (I mean my aunt and Janet) enrobed me in a shirt and a\npair of trousers belonging to Mr. Dick, and tied me up in two or three\ngreat shawls. What sort of bundle I looked like, I don't know, but I\nfelt a very hot one. Feeling also very faint and drowsy, I soon lay down\non the sofa again and fell asleep. It might have been a dream, originating in the fancy which had occupied\nmy mind so long, but I awoke with the impression that my aunt had come\nand bent over me, and had put my hair away from my face, and laid my\nhead more comfortably, and had then stood looking at me. The words,\n'Pretty fellow,' or 'Poor fellow,' seemed to be in my ears, too; but\ncertainly there was nothing else, when I awoke, to lead me to believe\nthat they had been uttered by my aunt, who sat in the bow-window gazing\nat the sea from behind the green fan, which was mounted on a kind of\nswivel, and turned any way. We dined soon after I awoke, off a roast fowl and a pudding; I sitting\nat table, not unlike a trussed bird myself, and moving my arms with\nconsiderable difficulty. But as my aunt had swathed me up, I made no\ncomplaint of being inconvenienced. All this time I was deeply anxious\nto know what she was going to do with me; but she took her dinner in\nprofound silence, except when she occasionally fixed her eyes on me\nsitting opposite, and said, 'Mercy upon us!' which did not by any means\nrelieve my anxiety. The cloth being drawn, and some sherry put upon the table (of which I\nhad a glass), my aunt sent up for Mr. Dick again, who joined us, and\nlooked as wise as he could when she requested him to attend to my story,\nwhich she elicited from me, gradually, by a course of questions. During\nmy recital, she kept her eyes on Mr. Dick, who I thought would have gone\nto sleep but for that, and who, whensoever he lapsed into a smile, was\nchecked by a frown from my aunt. 'Whatever possessed that poor unfortunate Baby, that she must go and be\nmarried again,' said my aunt, when I had finished, 'I can't conceive.' 'Perhaps she fell in love with her second husband,' Mr. Dick suggested. 'Fell in love!' repeated my aunt. 'What do you mean? What business had\nshe to do it?'\n\n<System> Please remember what the user reads on 2024-01-09, save the details within the book, and retain a summary of the book the user has read so far.", "[Event happened on 2024-01-10 The user is reading a book]\n<User> 'Perhaps,' Mr. Dick simpered, after thinking a little, 'she did it for\npleasure.' 'Pleasure, indeed!' replied my aunt. 'A mighty pleasure for the poor\nBaby to fix her simple faith upon any dog of a fellow, certain to\nill-use her in some way or other. What did she propose to herself,\nI should like to know! She had had one husband. She had seen David\nCopperfield out of the world, who was always running after wax dolls\nfrom his cradle. She had got a baby--oh, there were a pair of babies\nwhen she gave birth to this child sitting here, that Friday night!--and\nwhat more did she want?' Mr. Dick secretly shook his head at me, as if he thought there was no\ngetting over this. 'She couldn't even have a baby like anybody else,' said my aunt. 'Where\nwas this child's sister, Betsey Trotwood? Not forthcoming. Don't tell\nme!' Mr. Dick seemed quite frightened. 'That little man of a doctor, with his head on one side,' said my aunt,\n'Jellips, or whatever his name was, what was he about? All he could do,\nwas to say to me, like a robin redbreast--as he is--\"It's a boy.\" A boy! Yah, the imbecility of the whole set of 'em!' The heartiness of the ejaculation startled Mr. Dick exceedingly; and me,\ntoo, if I am to tell the truth. 'And then, as if this was not enough, and she had not stood sufficiently\nin the light of this child's sister, Betsey Trotwood,' said my aunt,\n'she marries a second time--goes and marries a Murderer--or a man with\na name like it--and stands in THIS child's light! And the natural\nconsequence is, as anybody but a baby might have foreseen, that he\nprowls and wanders. He's as like Cain before he was grown up, as he can\nbe.' Mr. Dick looked hard at me, as if to identify me in this character. 'And then there's that woman with the Pagan name,' said my aunt, 'that\nPeggotty, she goes and gets married next. Because she has not seen\nenough of the evil attending such things, she goes and gets married\nnext, as the child relates. I only hope,' said my aunt, shaking her\nhead, 'that her husband is one of those Poker husbands who abound in the\nnewspapers, and will beat her well with one.' I could not bear to hear my old nurse so decried, and made the subject\nof such a wish. I told my aunt that indeed she was mistaken. That\nPeggotty was the best, the truest, the most faithful, most devoted, and\nmost self-denying friend and servant in the world; who had ever loved\nme dearly, who had ever loved my mother dearly; who had held my mother's\ndying head upon her arm, on whose face my mother had imprinted her last\ngrateful kiss. And my remembrance of them both, choking me, I broke down\nas I was trying to say that her home was my home, and that all she had\nwas mine, and that I would have gone to her for shelter, but for her\nhumble station, which made me fear that I might bring some trouble on\nher--I broke down, I say, as I was trying to say so, and laid my face in\nmy hands upon the table. 'Well, well!' said my aunt, 'the child is right to stand by those who\nhave stood by him--Janet! Donkeys!' I thoroughly believe that but for those unfortunate donkeys, we should\nhave come to a good understanding; for my aunt had laid her hand on my\nshoulder, and the impulse was upon me, thus emboldened, to embrace her\nand beseech her protection. But the interruption, and the disorder she\nwas thrown into by the struggle outside, put an end to all softer ideas\nfor the present, and kept my aunt indignantly declaiming to Mr. Dick\nabout her determination to appeal for redress to the laws of her\ncountry, and to bring actions for trespass against the whole donkey\nproprietorship of Dover, until tea-time. After tea, we sat at the window--on the look-out, as I imagined, from\nmy aunt's sharp expression of face, for more invaders--until dusk, when\nJanet set candles, and a backgammon-board, on the table, and pulled down\nthe blinds. 'Now, Mr. Dick,' said my aunt, with her grave look, and her forefinger\nup as before, 'I am going to ask you another question. Look at this\nchild.' 'David's son?' said Mr. Dick, with an attentive, puzzled face. 'Exactly so,' returned my aunt. 'What would you do with him, now?' 'Do with David's son?' said Mr. Dick. 'Ay,' replied my aunt, 'with David's son.' 'Oh!' said Mr. Dick. 'Yes. Do with--I should put him to bed.' 'Janet!' cried my aunt, with the same complacent triumph that I had\nremarked before. 'Mr. Dick sets us all right. If the bed is ready, we'll\ntake him up to it.' Janet reporting it to be quite ready, I was taken up to it; kindly, but\nin some sort like a prisoner; my aunt going in front and Janet bringing\nup the rear. The only circumstance which gave me any new hope, was my\naunt's stopping on the stairs to inquire about a smell of fire that was\nprevalent there; and janet's replying that she had been making tinder\ndown in the kitchen, of my old shirt. But there were no other clothes in\nmy room than the odd heap of things I wore; and when I was left there,\nwith a little taper which my aunt forewarned me would burn exactly five\nminutes, I heard them lock my door on the outside. Turning these things\nover in my mind I deemed it possible that my aunt, who could know\nnothing of me, might suspect I had a habit of running away, and took\nprecautions, on that account, to have me in safe keeping. The room was a pleasant one, at the top of the house, overlooking the\nsea, on which the moon was shining brilliantly. After I had said my\nprayers, and the candle had burnt out, I remember how I still sat\nlooking at the moonlight on the water, as if I could hope to read my\nfortune in it, as in a bright book; or to see my mother with her child,\ncoming from Heaven, along that shining path, to look upon me as she had\nlooked when I last saw her sweet face. I remember how the solemn feeling\nwith which at length I turned my eyes away, yielded to the sensation of\ngratitude and rest which the sight of the white-curtained bed--and how\nmuch more the lying softly down upon it, nestling in the snow-white\nsheets!--inspired. I remember how I thought of all the solitary places\nunder the night sky where I had slept, and how I prayed that I never\nmight be houseless any more, and never might forget the houseless. I\nremember how I seemed to float, then, down the melancholy glory of that\ntrack upon the sea, away into the world of dreams.\n\n<System> Please remember what the user reads on 2024-01-10, save the details within the book, and retain a summary of the book the user has read so far."]
[{"question": "Summarize the content of the book I read from 2024-01-01 to 2024-01-10", "answer": "David Copperfield, Miss Betsey Trotwood, Mr. Dick, Janet, Peggotty, Mrs. Copperfield, Steerforth, Charley, Mr. Dolloby, tinker, summer night, stoop, walking to Dover, selling waistcoat, Salem House, haystack, school friends, church bells, sleeping outside, troop outpost, selling jacket, second-hand clothing store, sailors' shop, fishing rod, fiddle, hat, flute, silk handkerchief, carriage driver, general store, garden gate, parlor window, gardening gloves, knife, broth, bath, shawls, sofa, dinner, bedroom overlooking sea, locked door, patch of green, donkeys, homelessness, loyalty, fear, exhaustion, hope, childhood memories, abuse, poverty, journey, decision to seek aunt, relationship with Peggotty, relationship with Miss Betsey, advice from Mr. Dick, Sunday morning, 23 miles, U.S. $5.00, U.S. $10.00"}]