Рождественская история
Chapter 3
‘We’dadealofworktofinishuplastnight,’repliedthegirl,‘andhadtoclearawaythismorning,mother.’
‘Well!Nevermindsolongasyouarecome,’saidMrsCratchit.‘Sityedownbeforethefire,mydear,andhaveawarm,Lordblessye.’
‘No,no.There’sfathercoming,’criedthetwoyoungCratchits,whowereeverywhereatonce.‘Hide,Martha,hide!’
SoMarthahidherself,andincamelittleBob,thefather,withatleastthreefeetofcomforterexclusiveofthefringe,hangingdownbeforehim;andhisthreadbareclothesdarnedupandbrushed,tolookseasonable;andTinyTimuponhisshoulder.AlasforTinyTim,heborealittlecrutch,andhadhislimbssupportedbyanironframe.
‘Why,where’sourMartha?’criedBobCratchit,lookinground.
‘Notcoming,’saidMrsCratchit.
‘Notcoming!’saidBob,withasuddendeclensioninhishighspirits;forhehadbeenTim’sbloodhorseallthewayfromchurch,andhadcomehomerampant.‘NotcominguponChristmasDay?’
Marthadidn’tliketoseehimdisappointed,ifitwereonlyinjoke;soshecameoutprematurelyfrombehindtheclosetdoor,andranintohisarms,whilethetwoyoungCratchitshustledTinyTim,andborehimoffintothewash-house,thathemighthearthepuddingsinginginthecopper.
‘AndhowdidlittleTimbehave?’askedMrsCratchit,whenshehadralliedBobonhiscredulity,andBobhadhuggedhisdaughtertohisheart’scontent.
‘Asgoodasgold,’saidBob,‘andbetter.
