Дэвид Копперфильд

My Aunt Makes up Her Mind About Me

           

           ‘Toansweritinperson,howeverinconvenientthejourney,’pursuedMr.Murdstone,‘ratherthanbyletter.Thisunhappyboywhohasrunawayfromhisfriendsandhisoccupation

           ‘Andwhoseappearance,’interposedhissister,directinggeneralattentiontomeinmyindefinablecostume,‘isperfectlyscandalousanddisgraceful.’

           ‘JaneMurdstone,’saidherbrother,‘havethegoodnessnottointerruptme.Thisunhappyboy,MissTrotwood,hasbeentheoccasionofmuchdomestictroubleanduneasiness;bothduringthelifetimeofmylatedearwife,andsince.Hehasasullen,rebelliousspirit;aviolenttemper;andanuntoward,intractabledisposition.Bothmysisterandmyselfhaveendeavouredtocorrecthisvices,butineffectually.AndIhavefeltwebothhavefelt,Imaysay;mysisterbeingfullyinmyconfidencethatitisrightyoushouldreceivethisgraveanddispassionateassurancefromourlips.’

           ‘Itcanhardlybenecessaryformetoconfirmanythingstatedbymybrother,’saidMissMurdstone;‘butIbegtoobserve,that,ofalltheboysintheworld,Ibelievethisistheworstboy.’

           ‘Strong!’saidmyaunt,shortly.

           ‘Butnotatalltoostrongforthefacts,’returnedMissMurdstone.

           ‘Ha!’saidmyaunt.‘Well,sir?’

           ‘Ihavemyownopinions,’resumedMr.

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