Look at the picture. Where are the characters? What do you think will happen in the extract?
Read to find out.

“Hold your noise!” cried a terrible voice, as a man jumped out from among the graves at the side of the church porch. “Keep still, you little devil, or I’ll cut your throat!”
A fearful man, all in coarse grey, with a great iron1 on his leg. A man with no hat, and with broken shoes, and with an old rag tied round his head. A man who had been soaked in water, and smothered in mud, and lamed by stones, and cut by flints2, and stung by nettles, and torn by briars3; who limped, and shivered, and glared and growled; and whose teeth chattered in his head as he seized me by the chin.
“Oh! Don’t cut my throat, sir,” I pleaded in terror. “Please don’t do it, sir.”
“Tell us your name!”, said the man. “Quick!”
“Pip, sir.”
“Once more”, said the man, staring at me. “Speak up!”
“Pip. Pip, sir.”
“Show us where you live”, said the man. “Pint out the place!”
pointed to where our village lay, on the flat in-shore4 among the alder-trees and pollards5 , a mile or more from the church. The man, after looking at me for a moment, turned me upside down, and emptied my pockets. There was nothing in them but a piece of bread. When the church came to itself - for he was so sudden and strong that he made it go head over heels before me, and I saw the steeple under my feet - when the church came to itself, I say, I was seated on a high tombstone, trembling, while he ate the bread ravenously.