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- Чарльз Диккенс
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"
George
,
I
never
see
you
but
I
wish
you
was
a
hundred
mile
away
!
"
The
trooper
,
without
remarking
on
this
welcome
,
follows
into
the
musical
-
instrument
shop
,
where
the
lady
places
her
tub
of
greens
upon
the
counter
,
and
having
shaken
hands
with
him
,
rests
her
arms
upon
it
.
"
I
never
,
"
she
says
,
"
George
,
consider
Matthew
Bagnet
safe
a
minute
when
you
’
re
near
him
.
You
are
that
restless
and
that
roving
—
"
"
Yes
!
I
know
I
am
,
Mrs
.
Bagnet
.
I
know
I
am
.
"
"
You
know
you
are
!
"
says
Mrs
.
Bagnet
.
"
What
’
s
the
use
of
that
?
WHY
are
you
?
"
"
The
nature
of
the
animal
,
I
suppose
,
"
returns
the
trooper
good
-
humouredly
.
"
Ah
!
"
cries
Mrs
.
Bagnet
,
something
shrilly
.
"
But
what
satisfaction
will
the
nature
of
the
animal
be
to
me
when
the
animal
shall
have
tempted
my
Mat
away
from
the
musical
business
to
New
Zealand
or
Australey
?
"
Mrs
.
Bagnet
is
not
at
all
an
ill
-
looking
woman
.
Rather
large
-
boned
,
a
little
coarse
in
the
grain
,
and
freckled
by
the
sun
and
wind
which
have
tanned
her
hair
upon
the
forehead
,
but
healthy
,
wholesome
,
and
bright
-
eyed
.
A
strong
,
busy
,
active
,
honest
-
faced
woman
of
from
forty
-
five
to
fifty
.
Clean
,
hardy
,
and
so
economically
dressed
(
though
substantially
)
that
the
only
article
of
ornament
of
which
she
stands
possessed
appear
’
s
to
be
her
wedding
-
ring
,
around
which
her
finger
has
grown
to
be
so
large
since
it
was
put
on
that
it
will
never
come
off
again
until
it
shall
mingle
with
Mrs
.
Bagnet
’
s
dust
.
"
Mrs
.
Bagnet
,
"
says
the
trooper
,
"
I
am
on
my
parole
with
you
.
Mat
will
get
no
harm
from
me
.
You
may
trust
me
so
far
.
"
"
Well
,
I
think
I
may
.
But
the
very
looks
of
you
are
unsettling
,
"
Mrs
.
Bagnet
rejoins
.
"
Ah
,
George
,
George
!
If
you
had
only
settled
down
and
married
Joe
Pouch
’
s
widow
when
he
died
in
North
America
,
SHE
’
D
have
combed
your
hair
for
you
.
"
"
It
was
a
chance
for
me
,
certainly
,
"
returns
the
trooper
half
laughingly
,
half
seriously
,
"
but
I
shall
never
settle
down
into
a
respectable
man
now
.
Joe
Pouch
’
s
widow
might
have
done
me
good
—
there
was
something
in
her
,
and
something
of
her
—
but
I
couldn
’
t
make
up
my
mind
to
it
.
If
I
had
had
the
luck
to
meet
with
such
a
wife
as
Mat
found
!
"
Mrs
.
Bagnet
,
who
seems
in
a
virtuous
way
to
be
under
little
reserve
with
a
good
sort
of
fellow
,
but
to
be
another
good
sort
of
fellow
herself
for
that
matter
,
receives
this
compliment
by
flicking
Mr
.
George
in
the
face
with
a
head
of
greens
and
taking
her
tub
into
the
little
room
behind
the
shop
.
"
Why
,
Quebec
,
my
poppet
,
"
says
George
,
following
,
on
invitation
,
into
that
department
.
"
And
little
Malta
,
too
!
Come
and
kiss
your
Bluffy
!
"
These
young
ladies
—
not
supposed
to
have
been
actually
christened
by
the
names
applied
to
them
,
though
always
so
called
in
the
family
from
the
places
of
their
birth
in
barracks
—
are
respectively
employed
on
three
-
legged
stools
,
the
younger
(
some
five
or
six
years
old
)
in
learning
her
letters
out
of
a
penny
primer
,
the
elder
(
eight
or
nine
perhaps
)
in
teaching
her
and
sewing
with
great
assiduity
.
Both
hail
Mr
.
George
with
acclamations
as
an
old
friend
and
after
some
kissing
and
romping
plant
their
stools
beside
him
.
"
And
how
’
s
young
Woolwich
?
"
says
Mr
.
George
.
"
Ah
!
There
now
!
"
cries
Mrs
.
Bagnet
,
turning
about
from
her
saucepans
(
for
she
is
cooking
dinner
)
with
a
bright
flush
on
her
face
.
"
Would
you
believe
it
?
Got
an
engagement
at
the
theayter
,
with
his
father
,
to
play
the
fife
in
a
military
piece
.
"
"
Well
done
,
my
godson
!
"
cries
Mr
.
George
,
slapping
his
thigh
.
"
I
believe
you
!
"
says
Mrs
.
Bagnet
.
"
He
’
s
a
Briton
.
That
’
s
what
Woolwich
is
.
A
Briton
!
"
"
And
Mat
blows
away
at
his
bassoon
,
and
you
’
re
respectable
civilians
one
and
all
,
"
says
Mr
.
George
.
"
Family
people
.
Children
growing
up
.
Mat
’
s
old
mother
in
Scotland
,
and
your
old
father
somewhere
else
,
corresponded
with
,
and
helped
a
little
,
and
—
well
,
well
!
To
be
sure
,
I
don
’
t
know
why
I
shouldn
’
t
be
wished
a
hundred
mile
away
,
for
I
have
not
much
to
do
with
all
this
!
"
Mr
.
George
is
becoming
thoughtful
,
sitting
before
the
fire
in
the
whitewashed
room
,
which
has
a
sanded
floor
and
a
barrack
smell
and
contains
nothing
superfluous
and
has
not
a
visible
speck
of
dirt
or
dust
in
it
,
from
the
faces
of
Quebec
and
Malta
to
the
bright
tin
pots
and
pannikins
upon
the
dresser
shelves
—
Mr
.
George
is
becoming
thoughtful
,
sitting
here
while
Mrs
.
Bagnet
is
busy
,
when
Mr
.
Bagnet
and
young
Woolwich
opportunely
come
home
.
Mr
.
Bagnet
is
an
ex
-
artilleryman
,
tall
and
upright
,
with
shaggy
eyebrows
and
whiskers
like
the
fibres
of
a
coco
-
nut
,
not
a
hair
upon
his
head
,
and
a
torrid
complexion
.
His
voice
,
short
,
deep
,
and
resonant
,
is
not
at
all
unlike
the
tones
of
the
instrument
to
which
he
is
devoted
.
Indeed
there
may
be
generally
observed
in
him
an
unbending
,
unyielding
,
brass
-
bound
air
,
as
if
he
were
himself
the
bassoon
of
the
human
orchestra
.
Young
Woolwich
is
the
type
and
model
of
a
young
drummer
.
Both
father
and
son
salute
the
trooper
heartily
.
He
saying
,
in
due
season
,
that
he
has
come
to
advise
with
Mr
.
Bagnet
,
Mr
.
Bagnet
hospitably
declares
that
he
will
hear
of
no
business
until
after
dinner
and
that
his
friend
shall
not
partake
of
his
counsel
without
first
partaking
of
boiled
pork
and
greens
.
The
trooper
yielding
to
this
invitation
,
he
and
Mr
.
Bagnet
,
not
to
embarrass
the
domestic
preparations
,
go
forth
to
take
a
turn
up
and
down
the
little
street
,
which
they
promenade
with
measured
tread
and
folded
arms
,
as
if
it
were
a
rampart
.
"
George
,
"
says
Mr
.
Bagnet
.
"
You
know
me
.
It
’
s
my
old
girl
that
advises
.
She
has
the
head
.
But
I
never
own
to
it
before
her
.
Discipline
must
be
maintained
.
Wait
till
the
greens
is
off
her
mind
.
Then
we
’
ll
consult
.
Whatever
the
old
girl
says
,
do
—
do
it
!
"
"
I
intend
to
,
Mat
,
"
replies
the
other
.
"
I
would
sooner
take
her
opinion
than
that
of
a
college
.
"
"
College
,
"
returns
Mr
.
Bagnet
in
short
sentences
,
bassoon
-
like
.
"
What
college
could
you
leave
—
in
another
quarter
of
the
world
—
with
nothing
but
a
grey
cloak
and
an
umbrella
—
to
make
its
way
home
to
Europe
?
The
old
girl
would
do
it
to
-
morrow
.
Did
it
once
!
"
"
You
are
right
,
"
says
Mr
.
George
.
"
What
college
,
"
pursues
Bagnet
,
"
could
you
set
up
in
life
—
with
two
penn
’
orth
of
white
lime
—
a
penn
’
orth
of
fuller
’
s
earth
—
a
ha
’
porth
of
sand
—
and
the
rest
of
the
change
out
of
sixpence
in
money
?
That
’
s
what
the
old
girl
started
on
.
In
the
present
business
.
"
"
I
am
rejoiced
to
hear
it
’
s
thriving
,
Mat
.
"
"
The
old
girl
,
"
says
Mr
.
Bagnet
,
acquiescing
,
"
saves
.
Has
a
stocking
somewhere
.
With
money
in
it
.
I
never
saw
it
.
But
I
know
she
’
s
got
it
.
Wait
till
the
greens
is
off
her
mind
.
Then
she
’
ll
set
you
up
.
"
"
She
is
a
treasure
!
"
exclaims
Mr
.
George
.
"
She
’
s
more
.
But
I
never
own
to
it
before
her
.
Discipline
must
be
maintained
.
It
was
the
old
girl
that
brought
out
my
musical
abilities
.
I
should
have
been
in
the
artillery
now
but
for
the
old
girl
.
Six
years
I
hammered
at
the
fiddle
.
Ten
at
the
flute
.
The
old
girl
said
it
wouldn
’
t
do
;
intention
good
,
but
want
of
flexibility
;
try
the
bassoon
.
The
old
girl
borrowed
a
bassoon
from
the
bandmaster
of
the
Rifle
Regiment
.
I
practised
in
the
trenches
.
Got
on
,
got
another
,
get
a
living
by
it
!
"
George
remarks
that
she
looks
as
fresh
as
a
rose
and
as
sound
as
an
apple
.
"
The
old
girl
,
"
says
Mr
.
Bagnet
in
reply
,
"
is
a
thoroughly
fine
woman
.
Consequently
she
is
like
a
thoroughly
fine
day
.
Gets
finer
as
she
gets
on
.
I
never
saw
the
old
girl
’
s
equal
.
But
I
never
own
to
it
before
her
.
Discipline
must
be
maintained
!
"
Proceeding
to
converse
on
indifferent
matters
,
they
walk
up
and
down
the
little
street
,
keeping
step
and
time
,
until
summoned
by
Quebec
and
Malta
to
do
justice
to
the
pork
and
greens
,
over
which
Mrs
.
Bagnet
,
like
a
military
chaplain
,
says
a
short
grace
.
In
the
distribution
of
these
comestibles
,
as
in
every
other
household
duty
,
Mrs
.
Bagnet
developes
an
exact
system
,
sitting
with
every
dish
before
her
,
allotting
to
every
portion
of
pork
its
own
portion
of
pot
-
liquor
,
greens
,
potatoes
,
and
even
mustard
,
and
serving
it
out
complete
.
Having
likewise
served
out
the
beer
from
a
can
and
thus
supplied
the
mess
with
all
things
necessary
,
Mrs
.
Bagnet
proceeds
to
satisfy
her
own
hunger
,
which
is
in
a
healthy
state
.
The
kit
of
the
mess
,
if
the
table
furniture
may
be
so
denominated
,
is
chiefly
composed
of
utensils
of
horn
and
tin
that
have
done
duty
in
several
parts
of
the
world
.
Young
Woolwich
’
s
knife
,
in
particular
,
which
is
of
the
oyster
kind
,
with
the
additional
feature
of
a
strong
shutting
-
up
movement
which
frequently
balks
the
appetite
of
that
young
musician
,
is
mentioned
as
having
gone
in
various
hands
the
complete
round
of
foreign
service
.
The
dinner
done
,
Mrs
.
Bagnet
,
assisted
by
the
younger
branches
(
who
polish
their
own
cups
and
platters
,
knives
and
forks
)
,
makes
all
the
dinner
garniture
shine
as
brightly
as
before
and
puts
it
all
away
,
first
sweeping
the
hearth
,
to
the
end
that
Mr
.
Bagnet
and
the
visitor
may
not
be
retarded
in
the
smoking
of
their
pipes
.
These
household
cares
involve
much
pattening
and
counter
-
pattening
in
the
backyard
and
considerable
use
of
a
pail
,
which
is
finally
so
happy
as
to
assist
in
the
ablutions
of
Mrs
.
Bagnet
herself
.
That
old
girl
reappearing
by
and
by
,
quite
fresh
,
and
sitting
down
to
her
needlework
,
then
and
only
then
—
the
greens
being
only
then
to
be
considered
as
entirely
off
her
mind
—
Mr
.
Bagnet
requests
the
trooper
to
state
his
case
.
This
Mr
.
George
does
with
great
discretion
,
appearing
to
address
himself
to
Mr
.
Bagnet
,
but
having
an
eye
solely
on
the
old
girl
all
the
time
,
as
Bagnet
has
himself
.
She
,
equally
discreet
,
busies
herself
with
her
needlework
.
The
case
fully
stated
,
Mr
.
Bagnet
resorts
to
his
standard
artifice
for
the
maintenance
of
discipline
.
"
That
’
s
the
whole
of
it
,
is
it
,
George
?
"
says
he
.
"
That
’
s
the
whole
of
it
.
"
"
You
act
according
to
my
opinion
?
"
"
I
shall
be
guided
,
"
replies
George
,
"
entirely
by
it
.
"
"
Old
girl
,
"
says
Mr
.
Bagnet
,
"
give
him
my
opinion
.
You
know
it
.
Tell
him
what
it
is
.
"
It
is
that
he
cannot
have
too
little
to
do
with
people
who
are
too
deep
for
him
and
cannot
be
too
careful
of
interference
with
matters
he
does
not
understand
—
that
the
plain
rule
is
to
do
nothing
in
the
dark
,
to
be
a
party
to
nothing
underhanded
or
mysterious
,
and
never
to
put
his
foot
where
he
cannot
see
the
ground
.
This
,
in
effect
,
is
Mr
.
Bagnet
’
s
opinion
,
as
delivered
through
the
old
girl
,
and
it
so
relieves
Mr
.
George
’
s
mind
by
confirming
his
own
opinion
and
banishing
his
doubts
that
he
composes
himself
to
smoke
another
pipe
on
that
exceptional
occasion
and
to
have
a
talk
over
old
times
with
the
whole
Bagnet
family
,
according
to
their
various
ranges
of
experience
.
Through
these
means
it
comes
to
pass
that
Mr
.
George
does
not
again
rise
to
his
full
height
in
that
parlour
until
the
time
is
drawing
on
when
the
bassoon
and
fife
are
expected
by
a
British
public
at
the
theatre
;
and
as
it
takes
time
even
then
for
Mr
.
George
,
in
his
domestic
character
of
Bluffy
,
to
take
leave
of
Quebec
and
Malta
and
insinuate
a
sponsorial
shilling
into
the
pocket
of
his
godson
with
felicitations
on
his
success
in
life
,
it
is
dark
when
Mr
.
George
again
turns
his
face
towards
Lincoln
’
s
Inn
Fields
.
"
A
family
home
,
"
he
ruminates
as
he
marches
along
,
"
however
small
it
is
,
makes
a
man
like
me
look
lonely
.
But
it
’
s
well
I
never
made
that
evolution
of
matrimony
.
I
shouldn
’
t
have
been
fit
for
it
.
I
am
such
a
vagabond
still
,
even
at
my
present
time
of
life
,
that
I
couldn
’
t
hold
to
the
gallery
a
month
together
if
it
was
a
regular
pursuit
or
if
I
didn
’
t
camp
there
,
gipsy
fashion
.
Come
!
I
disgrace
nobody
and
cumber
nobody
;
that
’
s
something
.
I
have
not
done
that
for
many
a
long
year
!
"
So
he
whistles
it
off
and
marches
on
.
Arrived
in
Lincoln
’
s
Inn
Fields
and
mounting
Mr
.
Tulkinghorn
’
s
stair
,
he
finds
the
outer
door
closed
and
the
chambers
shut
,
but
the
trooper
not
knowing
much
about
outer
doors
,
and
the
staircase
being
dark
besides
,
he
is
yet
fumbling
and
groping
about
,
hoping
to
discover
a
bell
-
handle
or
to
open
the
door
for
himself
,
when
Mr
.
Tulkinghorn
comes
up
the
stairs
(
quietly
,
of
course
)
and
angrily
asks
,
"
Who
is
that
?
What
are
you
doing
there
?
"
"
I
ask
your
pardon
,
sir
.
It
’
s
George
.
The
sergeant
.
"
"
And
couldn
’
t
George
,
the
sergeant
,
see
that
my
door
was
locked
?
"
"
Why
,
no
,
sir
,
I
couldn
’
t
.
At
any
rate
,
I
didn
’
t
,
"
says
the
trooper
,
rather
nettled
.
"
Have
you
changed
your
mind
?
Or
are
you
in
the
same
mind
?
"
Mr
.
Tulkinghorn
demands
.
But
he
knows
well
enough
at
a
glance
.
"
In
the
same
mind
,
sir
.
"
"
I
thought
so
.
That
’
s
sufficient
.
You
can
go
.
So
you
are
the
man
,
"
says
Mr
.
Tulkinghorn
,
opening
his
door
with
the
key
,
"
in
whose
hiding
-
place
Mr
.
Gridley
was
found
?
"
"
Yes
,
I
AM
the
man
,
"
says
the
trooper
,
stopping
two
or
three
stairs
down
.
"
What
then
,
sir
?
"
"
What
then
?
I
don
’
t
like
your
associates
.
You
should
not
have
seen
the
inside
of
my
door
this
morning
if
I
had
thought
of
your
being
that
man
.
Gridley
?
A
threatening
,
murderous
,
dangerous
fellow
"
With
these
words
,
spoken
in
an
unusually
high
tone
for
him
,
the
lawyer
goes
into
his
rooms
and
shuts
the
door
with
a
thundering
noise
.
Mr
.
George
takes
his
dismissal
in
great
dudgeon
,
the
greater
because
a
clerk
coming
up
the
stairs
has
heard
the
last
words
of
all
and
evidently
applies
them
to
him
.
"
A
pretty
character
to
bear
,
"
the
trooper
growls
with
a
hasty
oath
as
he
strides
downstairs
.
"
A
threatening
,
murderous
,
dangerous
fellow
!
"
And
looking
up
,
he
sees
the
clerk
looking
down
at
him
and
marking
him
as
he
passes
a
lamp
.
This
so
intensifies
his
dudgeon
that
for
five
minutes
he
is
in
an
ill
humour
.
But
he
whistles
that
off
like
the
rest
of
it
and
marches
home
to
the
shooting
gallery
.
Sir
Leicester
Dedlock
has
got
the
better
,
for
the
time
being
,
of
the
family
gout
and
is
once
more
,
in
a
literal
no
less
than
in
a
figurative
point
of
view
,
upon
his
legs
.
He
is
at
his
place
in
Lincolnshire
;
but
the
waters
are
out
again
on
the
low
-
lying
grounds
,
and
the
cold
and
damp
steal
into
Chesney
Wold
,
though
well
defended
,
and
eke
into
Sir
Leicester
’
s
bones
.
The
blazing
fires
of
faggot
and
coal
—
Dedlock
timber
and
antediluvian
forest
—
that
blaze
upon
the
broad
wide
hearths
and
wink
in
the
twilight
on
the
frowning
woods
,
sullen
to
see
how
trees
are
sacrificed
,
do
not
exclude
the
enemy
.
The
hot
-
water
pipes
that
trail
themselves
all
over
the
house
,
the
cushioned
doors
and
windows
,
and
the
screens
and
curtains
fail
to
supply
the
fires
’
deficiencies
and
to
satisfy
Sir
Leicester
’
s
need
.
Hence
the
fashionable
intelligence
proclaims
one
morning
to
the
listening
earth
that
Lady
Dedlock
is
expected
shortly
to
return
to
town
for
a
few
weeks
.
It
is
a
melancholy
truth
that
even
great
men
have
their
poor
relations
.
Indeed
great
men
have
often
more
than
their
fair
share
of
poor
relations
,
inasmuch
as
very
red
blood
of
the
superior
quality
,
like
inferior
blood
unlawfully
shed
,
WILL
cry
aloud
and
WILL
be
heard
.
Sir
Leicester
’
s
cousins
,
in
the
remotest
degree
,
are
so
many
murders
in
the
respect
that
they
"
will
out
.
"
Among
whom
there
are
cousins
who
are
so
poor
that
one
might
almost
dare
to
think
it
would
have
been
the
happier
for
them
never
to
have
been
plated
links
upon
the
Dedlock
chain
of
gold
,
but
to
have
been
made
of
common
iron
at
first
and
done
base
service
.
