Дэвид Копперфильд

Little Em’ly

           Andnowhe’scomeintothebusiness.Andlookhere!Theyoungest!’

           Minnielaughed,andstrokedherbandedhairuponhertemples,asherfatherputoneofhisfatfingersintothehandofthechildshewasdancingonthecounter.

           ‘Twoparties,ofcourse!’saidMr.Omer,noddinghisheadretrospectively.‘Ex-actlyso!AndJoram’satwork,atthisminute,onagreyonewithsilvernails,notthismeasurement’themeasurementofthedancingchilduponthecounter‘byagoodtwoinches.Willyoutakesomething?’

           Ithankedhim,butdeclined.

           ‘Letmesee,’saidMr.Omer.‘Barkis’sthecarrier’swifePeggotty’stheboatman’ssistershehadsomethingtodowithyourfamily?Shewasinservicethere,sure?’

           Myansweringintheaffirmativegavehimgreatsatisfaction.

           ‘Ibelievemybreathwillgetlongnext,mymemory’sgettingsomuchso,’saidMr.Omer.‘Well,sir,we’vegotayoungrelationofhershere,underarticlestous,thathasaselegantatasteinthedress-makingbusinessIassureyouIdon’tbelievethere’saDuchessinEnglandcantouchher.’

           ‘NotlittleEm’ly?’saidI,involuntarily.

           ‘Em’ly’shername,’saidMr.Omer,‘andshe’slittletoo.Butifyou’llbelieveme,shehassuchafaceofherownthathalfthewomeninthistownaremadagainsther.’

           ‘Nonsense,father!’criedMinnie.

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