Дэвид Копперфильд

I Become Neglected, and Am Provided for

           Allwithinwasthesame,downtotheseaweedinthebluemuginmybedroom.Iwentintotheout-housetolookaboutme;andtheverysamelobsters,crabs,andcrawfishpossessedbythesamedesiretopinchtheworldingeneral,appearedtobeinthesamestateofconglomerationinthesameoldcorner.

           ButtherewasnolittleEm’lytobeseen,soIaskedMr.Peggottywhereshewas.

           ‘She’satschool,sir,’saidMr.Peggotty,wipingtheheatconsequentontheporterageofPeggotty’sboxfromhisforehead;‘she’llbehome,’lookingattheDutchclock,‘infromtwentyminutestohalf-an-hour’stime.Weallonusfeelthelossofher,blessye!’

           Mrs.Gummidgemoaned.

           ‘Cheerup,Mawther!’criedMr.Peggotty.

           ‘Ifeelitmorethananybodyelse,’saidMrs.Gummidge;‘I’malonelorncreetur’,andsheusedtobea’mosttheonlythingthatdidn’tgocontrarywithme.’

           Mrs.Gummidge,whimperingandshakingherhead,appliedherselftoblowingthefire.Mr.Peggotty,lookingrounduponuswhileshewassoengaged,saidinalowvoice,whichheshadedwithhishand:‘Theold‘un!’FromthisIrightlyconjecturedthatnoimprovementhadtakenplacesincemylastvisitinthestateofMrs.Gummidge’sspirits.

           Now,thewholeplacewas,oritshouldhavebeen,quiteasdelightfulaplaceasever;andyetitdidnotimpressmeinthesameway.Ifeltratherdisappointedwithit.

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