Дэвид Копперфильд

I Am Involved in Mystery

           

           ‘Lordblessyou,sir!’exclaimedmyaunt,inherabruptway.‘Whatareyoutalkingabout?’

           ‘Thesubsistenceofmyfamily,ma’am,’returnedMr.Micawber,‘tremblesinthebalance.Myemployer

           HereMr.Micawberprovokinglyleftoff;andbegantopeelthelemonsthathadbeenundermydirectionssetbeforehim,togetherwithalltheotherappliancesheusedinmakingpunch.

           ‘Youremployer,youknow,’saidMr.Dick,jogginghisarmasagentlereminder.

           ‘Mygoodsir,’returnedMr.Micawber,‘yourecallme,Iamobligedtoyou.’Theyshookhandsagain.‘Myemployer,ma’amMr.Heep-oncedidmethefavourtoobservetome,thatifIwerenotinthereceiptofthestipendiaryemolumentsappertainingtomyengagementwithhim,Ishouldprobablybeamountebankaboutthecountry,swallowingasword-blade,andeatingthedevouringelement.ForanythingthatIcanperceivetothecontrary,itisstillprobablethatmychildrenmaybereducedtoseekalivelihoodbypersonalcontortion,whileMrs.Micawberabetstheirunnaturalfeatsbyplayingthebarrel-organ.’

           Mr.Micawber,witharandombutexpressiveflourishofhisknife,signifiedthattheseperformancesmightbeexpectedtotakeplaceafterhewasnomore;thenresumedhispeelingwithadesperateair.

           Myauntleanedherelbowonthelittleroundtablethatsheusuallykeptbesideher,andeyedhimattentively.

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