Дэвид Копперфильд

I have a Memorable Birthday

           Someoftheboysaboutmeputintheirclaimnottobeforgotteninthedistributionofthegoodthings,asIgotoutofmyseatwithgreatalacrity.

           ‘Don’thurry,David,’saidMr.Sharp.‘There’stimeenough,myboy,don’thurry.’

           Imighthavebeensurprisedbythefeelingtoneinwhichhespoke,ifIhadgivenitathought;butIgaveitnoneuntilafterwards.Ihurriedawaytotheparlour;andthereIfoundMr.Creakle,sittingathisbreakfastwiththecaneandanewspaperbeforehim,andMrs.Creaklewithanopenedletterinherhand.Butnohamper.

           ‘DavidCopperfield,’saidMrs.Creakle,leadingmetoasofa,andsittingdownbesideme.‘Iwanttospeaktoyouveryparticularly.Ihavesomethingtotellyou,mychild.’

           Mr.Creakle,atwhomofcourseIlooked,shookhisheadwithoutlookingatme,andstoppedupasighwithaverylargepieceofbutteredtoast.

           ‘Youaretooyoungtoknowhowtheworldchangeseveryday,’saidMrs.Creakle,‘andhowthepeopleinitpassaway.Butweallhavetolearnit,David;someofuswhenweareyoung,someofuswhenweareold,someofusatalltimesofourlives.’

           Ilookedatherearnestly.

           ‘Whenyoucameawayfromhomeattheendofthevacation,’saidMrs.

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