Посмертные записки Пиквикского клуба

Descriptive of an affecting Interview between Mr. Samuel Weller and a Family Party. Mr. Pickwick mak

           

           ‘Brayvo;werypretty!’saidSam,whenthered-nosedmanhavingfinished,pulledhisworngloveson,therebythrustinghisfingersthroughthebrokentopstilltheknucklesweredisclosedtoview.‘Werypretty.’

           ‘Ihopeitmaydoyougood,Samuel,’saidMrs.Wellersolemnly.

           ‘Ithinkitvill,mum,’repliedSam.

           ‘IwishIcouldhopethatitwoulddoyourfathergood,’saidMrs.Weller.

           ‘Thank’ee,mydear,’saidMr.Weller,senior.‘Howdoyoufindyourselfarterit,mylove?’

           ‘Scoffer!’exclaimedMrs.Weller.

           ‘Benightedman!’saidtheReverendMr.Stiggins.

           ‘IfIdon’tgetnobetterlightthanthat‘eremoonshineo’yourn,myworthycreetur,’saidtheelderMr.Weller,‘it’swerylikelyasIshallcontineytobeanightcoachtillI’mtookofftheroadaltogether.Now,Mrs.We,ifthepiebaldstandsatliverymuchlonger,he’llstandatnothin’aswegoback,andp’rapsthat‘ereharm-cheer’ullbetippedoverintosomehedgeoranother,withtheshepherdinit.’

           Atthissupposition,theReverendMr.Stiggins,inevidentconsternation,gathereduphishatandumbrella,andproposedanimmediatedeparture,towhichMrs.Wellerassented.Samwalkedwiththemtothelodgegate,andtookadutifulleave.

           ‘A-do,Samivel,’saidtheoldgentleman.

           ‘Wot’sa-do?’inquiredSammy.

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