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- Чарльз Диккенс
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- Дэвид Копперфильд
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- Стр. 106/820
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It
isn
’
t
that
there
ain
’
t
some
Cats
that
would
be
well
enough
pleased
if
she
did
,
but
they
sha
’
n
’
t
be
pleased
.
They
shall
be
aggravated
.
I
’
ll
stay
with
you
till
I
am
a
cross
cranky
old
woman
.
And
when
I
’
m
too
deaf
,
and
too
lame
,
and
too
blind
,
and
too
mumbly
for
want
of
teeth
,
to
be
of
any
use
at
all
,
even
to
be
found
fault
with
,
than
I
shall
go
to
my
Davy
,
and
ask
him
to
take
me
in
.
’
‘
And
,
Peggotty
,
’
says
I
,
‘
I
shall
be
glad
to
see
you
,
and
I
’
ll
make
you
as
welcome
as
a
queen
.
’
‘
Bless
your
dear
heart
!
’
cried
Peggotty
.
‘
I
know
you
will
!
’
And
she
kissed
me
beforehand
,
in
grateful
acknowledgement
of
my
hospitality
.
After
that
,
she
covered
her
head
up
with
her
apron
again
and
had
another
laugh
about
Mr
.
Barkis
.
After
that
,
she
took
the
baby
out
of
its
little
cradle
,
and
nursed
it
.
After
that
,
she
cleared
the
dinner
table
;
after
that
,
came
in
with
another
cap
on
,
and
her
work
-
box
,
and
the
yard
-
measure
,
and
the
bit
of
wax
-
candle
,
all
just
the
same
as
ever
.
We
sat
round
the
fire
,
and
talked
delightfully
.
I
told
them
what
a
hard
master
Mr
.
Creakle
was
,
and
they
pitied
me
very
much
.
I
told
them
what
a
fine
fellow
Steerforth
was
,
and
what
a
patron
of
mine
,
and
Peggotty
said
she
would
walk
a
score
of
miles
to
see
him
.
I
took
the
little
baby
in
my
arms
when
it
was
awake
,
and
nursed
it
lovingly
.
When
it
was
asleep
again
,
I
crept
close
to
my
mother
’
s
side
according
to
my
old
custom
,
broken
now
a
long
time
,
and
sat
with
my
arms
embracing
her
waist
,
and
my
little
red
cheek
on
her
shoulder
,
and
once
more
felt
her
beautiful
hair
drooping
over
me
—
like
an
angel
’
s
wing
as
I
used
to
think
,
I
recollect
—
and
was
very
happy
indeed
.
While
I
sat
thus
,
looking
at
the
fire
,
and
seeing
pictures
in
the
red
-
hot
coals
,
I
almost
believed
that
I
had
never
been
away
;
that
Mr
.
and
Miss
Murdstone
were
such
pictures
,
and
would
vanish
when
the
fire
got
low
;
and
that
there
was
nothing
real
in
all
that
I
remembered
,
save
my
mother
,
Peggotty
,
and
I
.
Peggotty
darned
away
at
a
stocking
as
long
as
she
could
see
,
and
then
sat
with
it
drawn
on
her
left
hand
like
a
glove
,
and
her
needle
in
her
right
,
ready
to
take
another
stitch
whenever
there
was
a
blaze
.
I
cannot
conceive
whose
stockings
they
can
have
been
that
Peggotty
was
always
darning
,
or
where
such
an
unfailing
supply
of
stockings
in
want
of
darning
can
have
come
from
.
From
my
earliest
infancy
she
seems
to
have
been
always
employed
in
that
class
of
needlework
,
and
never
by
any
chance
in
any
other
.
‘
I
wonder
,
’
said
Peggotty
,
who
was
sometimes
seized
with
a
fit
of
wondering
on
some
most
unexpected
topic
,
‘
what
’
s
become
of
Davy
’
s
great
-
aunt
?
’
‘
Lor
,
Peggotty
!
’
observed
my
mother
,
rousing
herself
from
a
reverie
,
‘
what
nonsense
you
talk
!
’
‘
Well
,
but
I
really
do
wonder
,
ma
’
am
,
’
said
Peggotty
.
‘
What
can
have
put
such
a
person
in
your
head
?
’
inquired
my
mother
.
‘
Is
there
nobody
else
in
the
world
to
come
there
?
’
