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- Чарльз Диккенс
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- Дэвид Копперфильд
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- Стр. 361/820
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He
only
winked
lazily
,
when
she
kissed
his
ball
of
a
head
.
‘
Papa
calls
her
my
confidential
friend
,
but
I
am
sure
she
is
no
such
thing
—
is
she
,
Jip
?
We
are
not
going
to
confide
in
any
such
cross
people
,
Jip
and
I
.
We
mean
to
bestow
our
confidence
where
we
like
,
and
to
find
out
our
own
friends
,
instead
of
having
them
found
out
for
us
—
don
’
t
we
,
Jip
?
’
Jip
made
a
comfortable
noise
,
in
answer
,
a
little
like
a
tea
-
kettle
when
it
sings
.
As
for
me
,
every
word
was
a
new
heap
of
fetters
,
riveted
above
the
last
.
‘
It
is
very
hard
,
because
we
have
not
a
kind
Mama
,
that
we
are
to
have
,
instead
,
a
sulky
,
gloomy
old
thing
like
Miss
Murdstone
,
always
following
us
about
—
isn
’
t
it
,
Jip
?
Never
mind
,
Jip
.
We
won
’
t
be
confidential
,
and
we
’
ll
make
ourselves
as
happy
as
we
can
in
spite
of
her
,
and
we
’
ll
tease
her
,
and
not
please
her
—
won
’
t
we
,
Jip
?
’
If
it
had
lasted
any
longer
,
I
think
I
must
have
gone
down
on
my
knees
on
the
gravel
,
with
the
probability
before
me
of
grazing
them
,
and
of
being
presently
ejected
from
the
premises
besides
.
But
,
by
good
fortune
the
greenhouse
was
not
far
off
,
and
these
words
brought
us
to
it
.
It
contained
quite
a
show
of
beautiful
geraniums
.
We
loitered
along
in
front
of
them
,
and
Dora
often
stopped
to
admire
this
one
or
that
one
,
and
I
stopped
to
admire
the
same
one
,
and
Dora
,
laughing
,
held
the
dog
up
childishly
,
to
smell
the
flowers
;
and
if
we
were
not
all
three
in
Fairyland
,
certainly
I
was
.
The
scent
of
a
geranium
leaf
,
at
this
day
,
strikes
me
with
a
half
comical
half
serious
wonder
as
to
what
change
has
come
over
me
in
a
moment
;
and
then
I
see
a
straw
hat
and
blue
ribbons
,
and
a
quantity
of
curls
,
and
a
little
black
dog
being
held
up
,
in
two
slender
arms
,
against
a
bank
of
blossoms
and
bright
leaves
.
Miss
Murdstone
had
been
looking
for
us
.
She
found
us
here
;
and
presented
her
uncongenial
cheek
,
the
little
wrinkles
in
it
filled
with
hair
powder
,
to
Dora
to
be
kissed
.
Then
she
took
Dora
’
s
arm
in
hers
,
and
marched
us
into
breakfast
as
if
it
were
a
soldier
’
s
funeral
.
How
many
cups
of
tea
I
drank
,
because
Dora
made
it
,
I
don
’
t
know
.
But
,
I
perfectly
remember
that
I
sat
swilling
tea
until
my
whole
nervous
system
,
if
I
had
had
any
in
those
days
,
must
have
gone
by
the
board
.
By
and
by
we
went
to
church
.
Miss
Murdstone
was
between
Dora
and
me
in
the
pew
;
but
I
heard
her
sing
,
and
the
congregation
vanished
.
A
sermon
was
delivered
—
about
Dora
,
of
course
—
and
I
am
afraid
that
is
all
I
know
of
the
service
.
We
had
a
quiet
day
.
No
company
,
a
walk
,
a
family
dinner
of
four
,
and
an
evening
of
looking
over
books
and
pictures
;
Miss
Murdstone
with
a
homily
before
her
,
and
her
eye
upon
us
,
keeping
guard
vigilantly
.
Ah
!
little
did
Mr
.
