Посмертні записки Піквікського клубу

A Field Day and Bivouac — More new Friends — An Invitation to the Country

           —‘Hem!aunt,dear!’

           ‘Yes,mydearlove!’

           ‘I’mSOafraidyou’llcatchcold,aunthaveasilkhandkerchieftotieroundyourdearoldheadyoureallyshouldtakecareofyourselfconsideryourage!’

           Howeverwelldeservedthispieceofretaliationmighthavebeen,itwasasvindictiveaoneascouldwellhavebeenresortedto.Thereisnoguessinginwhatformofreplytheaunt’sindignationwouldhaveventeditself,hadnotMr.Wardleunconsciouslychangedthesubject,bycallingemphaticallyforJoe.

           ‘Damnthatboy,’saidtheoldgentleman,‘he’sgonetosleepagain.’

           ‘Veryextraordinaryboy,that,’saidMr.Pickwick;‘doeshealwayssleepinthisway?’

           ‘Sleep!’saidtheoldgentleman,‘he’salwaysasleep.Goesonerrandsfastasleep,andsnoresashewaitsattable.’

           ‘Howveryodd!’saidMr.Pickwick.

           ‘Ah!oddindeed,’returnedtheoldgentleman;‘I’mproudofthatboywouldn’tpartwithhimonanyaccounthe’sanaturalcuriosity!Here,JoeJoetakethesethingsaway,andopenanotherbottled’yehear?’

           Thefatboyrose,openedhiseyes,swallowedthehugepieceofpiehehadbeenintheactofmasticatingwhenhelastfellasleep,andslowlyobeyedhismaster’sordersgloatinglanguidlyovertheremainsofthefeast,asheremovedtheplates,anddepositedtheminthehamper.

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