Дэвид Копперфильд

My ‘First Half’ at Salem House

           ‘Why,howyouhavegrowed!’

           ‘AmIgrown?’Isaid,dryingmyeyes.IwasnotcryingatanythinginparticularthatIknowof;butsomehowitmademecry,toseeoldfriends.

           ‘Growed,Mas’rDavybor’?Ain’thegrowed!’saidHam.

           ‘Ain’thegrowed!’saidMr.Peggotty.

           Theymademelaughagainbylaughingateachother,andthenweallthreelaugheduntilIwasindangerofcryingagain.

           ‘Doyouknowhowmamais,Mr.Peggotty?’Isaid.‘Andhowmydear,dear,oldPeggottyis?’

           ‘Oncommon,’saidMr.Peggotty.

           ‘AndlittleEm’ly,andMrs.Gummidge?’

           ‘Oncommon,’saidMr.Peggotty.

           Therewasasilence.Mr.Peggotty,torelieveit,tooktwoprodigiouslobsters,andanenormouscrab,andalargecanvasbagofshrimps,outofhispockets,andpiledthemupinHam’sarms.

           ‘Yousee,’saidMr.Peggotty,‘knowingasyouwaspartialtoalittlerelishwithyourwittleswhenyouwasalongwithus,wetooktheliberty.TheoldMawtherbiled‘em,shedid.Mrs.Gummidgebiled‘em.Yes,’saidMr.Peggotty,slowly,whoIthoughtappearedtosticktothesubjectonaccountofhavingnoothersubjectready,‘Mrs.Gummidge,Idoassureyou,shebiled‘em.’

           Iexpressedmythanks;andMr.

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