Посмертные записки Пиквикского клуба

How Mr. Winkle, when he stepped out of the Frying-pan, walked gently and comfortably into the Fire

           

           ‘Thepowdersforthechild,atthelargehousewiththenewfamily,andthepillstobetakenfourtimesadayattheill-temperedoldgentleman’swiththegoutyleg?’

           ‘Yes,sir.’

           ‘Thenshutthedoor,andmindtheshop.’

           ‘Come,’saidMr.Winkle,astheboyretired,‘thingsarenotquitesobadasyouwouldhavemebelieve,either.ThereisSOMEmedicinetobesentout.’

           Mr.BobSawyerpeepedintotheshoptoseethatnostrangerwaswithinhearing,andleaningforwardtoMr.Winkle,said,inalowtone

           ‘Heleavesitallatthewronghouses.’

           Mr.Winklelookedperplexed,andBobSawyerandhisfriendlaughed.

           ‘Don’tyousee?’saidBob.‘Hegoesuptoahouse,ringstheareabell,pokesapacketofmedicinewithoutadirectionintotheservant’shand,andwalksoff.Servanttakesitintothedining-parlour;masteropensit,andreadsthelabel:"Draughttobetakenatbedtimepillsasbeforelotionasusualthepowder.FromSawyer’s,lateNockemorf’s.Physicians’prescriptionscarefullyprepared,"andalltherestofit.Showsittohiswifeshereadsthelabel;itgoesdowntotheservantsTHEYreadthelabel.Nextday,boycalls:"VerysorryhismistakeimmensebusinessgreatmanyparcelstodeliverMr.Sawyer’scomplimentslateNockemorf."Thenamegetsknown,andthat’sthething,myboy,inthemedicalway.

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