llow it. Go away! Janet, turn him round.
Lead him off!' and I saw, from behind my aunt, a sort of hurried
battle-piece, in which the donkey stood resisting everybody, with all
his four legs planted different ways, while Janet tried to pull him
round by the bridle, Mr. Murdstone tried to lead him on, Miss Murdstone
struck at Janet with a parasol, and several boys, who had come to see
the engagement, shouted vigorously. But my aunt, suddenly descrying
among them the young malefactor who was the donkey's guardian, and who
was one of the most inveterate offenders against her, though hardly in
his teens, rushed out to the scene of action, pounced upon him, captured
him, dragged him, with his jacket over his head, and his heels grinding
the ground, into the garden, and, calling upon Janet to fetch the
constables and justices, that he might be taken, tried, and executed on
the spot, held him at bay there. This part of the business, however, did
not last long; for the young rascal, being expert at a variety of feints
and dodges, of which my aunt had no conception, soon went whooping away,
leaving some deep impressions of his nailed boots in the flower-beds,
and taking his donkey in triumph with him.

Miss Murdstone, during the latter portion of the contest, had
dismounted, and was now waiting with her brother at the bottom of the
steps, until my aunt should be at leisure to receive them. My aunt, a
little ruffled by the combat, marched past them into the house, with
great dignity, and took no notice of their presence, until they were
announced by Janet.

'Shall I go away, aunt?' I asked, trembling.

'No, sir,' said my aunt. 'Certainly not!' With which she pushed me into
a corner near her, and fenced Me in with a chair, as if it were a prison
or a bar of justice. This position I continued to occupy during the
whole interview, and from it I now saw Mr. and Miss Murdstone enter the
room.

'Oh!' said my aunt, 'I was not aware at first to whom I had the pleasure
of objecting. But I don't allow anybody to ride over that turf. I make
no exceptions. I don't allow anybody to do it.'

'Your regulation is rather awkward to strangers,' said Miss Murdstone.

'Is it!' said my aunt.

Mr. Murdstone seemed afraid of a renewal of hostilities, and interposing
began:

'Miss Trotwood!'

'I beg your pardon,' observed my aunt with a keen look. 'You are the Mr.
Murdstone who married the widow of my late nephew, David Copperfield, of
Blunde