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- Чарльз Диккенс
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- Дэвид Копперфильд
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- Стр. 594/820
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Dora
told
me
,
shortly
afterwards
,
that
she
was
going
to
be
a
wonderful
housekeeper
.
Accordingly
,
she
polished
the
tablets
,
pointed
the
pencil
,
bought
an
immense
account
-
book
,
carefully
stitched
up
with
a
needle
and
thread
all
the
leaves
of
the
Cookery
Book
which
Jip
had
torn
,
and
made
quite
a
desperate
little
attempt
‘
to
be
good
’
,
as
she
called
it
.
But
the
figures
had
the
old
obstinate
propensity
—
they
WOULD
NOT
add
up
.
When
she
had
entered
two
or
three
laborious
items
in
the
account
-
book
,
Jip
would
walk
over
the
page
,
wagging
his
tail
,
and
smear
them
all
out
.
Her
own
little
right
-
hand
middle
finger
got
steeped
to
the
very
bone
in
ink
;
and
I
think
that
was
the
only
decided
result
obtained
.
Sometimes
,
of
an
evening
,
when
I
was
at
home
and
at
work
—
for
I
wrote
a
good
deal
now
,
and
was
beginning
in
a
small
way
to
be
known
as
a
writer
—
I
would
lay
down
my
pen
,
and
watch
my
child
-
wife
trying
to
be
good
.
First
of
all
,
she
would
bring
out
the
immense
account
-
book
,
and
lay
it
down
upon
the
table
,
with
a
deep
sigh
.
Then
she
would
open
it
at
the
place
where
Jip
had
made
it
illegible
last
night
,
and
call
Jip
up
,
to
look
at
his
misdeeds
.
This
would
occasion
a
diversion
in
Jip
’
s
favour
,
and
some
inking
of
his
nose
,
perhaps
,
as
a
penalty
.
Then
she
would
tell
Jip
to
lie
down
on
the
table
instantly
,
‘
like
a
lion
’
—
which
was
one
of
his
tricks
,
though
I
cannot
say
the
likeness
was
striking
—
and
,
if
he
were
in
an
obedient
humour
,
he
would
obey
.
Then
she
would
take
up
a
pen
,
and
begin
to
write
,
and
find
a
hair
in
it
.
Then
she
would
take
up
another
pen
,
and
begin
to
write
,
and
find
that
it
spluttered
.
Then
she
would
take
up
another
pen
,
and
begin
to
write
,
and
say
in
a
low
voice
,
‘
Oh
,
it
’
s
a
talking
pen
,
and
will
disturb
Doady
!
’
And
then
she
would
give
it
up
as
a
bad
job
,
and
put
the
account
-
book
away
,
after
pretending
to
crush
the
lion
with
it
.
Or
,
if
she
were
in
a
very
sedate
and
serious
state
of
mind
,
she
would
sit
down
with
the
tablets
,
and
a
little
basket
of
bills
and
other
documents
,
which
looked
more
like
curl
-
papers
than
anything
else
,
and
endeavour
to
get
some
result
out
of
them
.
After
severely
comparing
one
with
another
,
and
making
entries
on
the
tablets
,
and
blotting
them
out
,
and
counting
all
the
fingers
of
her
left
hand
over
and
over
again
,
backwards
and
forwards
,
she
would
be
so
vexed
and
discouraged
,
and
would
look
so
unhappy
,
that
it
gave
me
pain
to
see
her
bright
face
clouded
—
and
for
me
!
—
and
I
would
go
softly
to
her
,
and
say
:
‘
What
’
s
the
matter
,
Dora
?
’
Dora
would
look
up
hopelessly
,
and
reply
,
‘
They
won
’
t
come
right
.
They
make
my
head
ache
so
.
And
they
won
’
t
do
anything
I
want
!
’
Then
I
would
say
,
‘
Now
let
us
try
together
.
Let
me
show
you
,
Dora
.
’
Then
I
would
commence
a
practical
demonstration
,
to
which
Dora
would
pay
profound
attention
,
perhaps
for
five
minutes
;
when
she
would
begin
to
be
dreadfully
tired
,
and
would
lighten
the
subject
by
curling
my
hair
,
or
trying
the
effect
of
my
face
with
my
shirt
-
collar
turned
down
.
If
I
tacitly
checked
this
playfulness
,
and
persisted
,
she
would
look
so
scared
and
disconsolate
,
as
she
became
more
and
more
bewildered
,
that
the
remembrance
of
her
natural
gaiety
when
I
first
strayed
into
her
path
,
and
of
her
being
my
child
-
wife
,
would
come
reproachfully
upon
me
;
and
I
would
lay
the
pencil
down
,
and
call
for
the
guitar
.
I
had
a
great
deal
of
work
to
do
,
and
had
many
anxieties
,
but
the
same
considerations
made
me
keep
them
to
myself
.
I
am
far
from
sure
,
now
,
that
it
was
right
to
do
this
,
but
I
did
it
for
my
child
-
wife
’
s
sake
.
I
search
my
breast
,
and
I
commit
its
secrets
,
if
I
know
them
,
without
any
reservation
to
this
paper
.
The
old
unhappy
loss
or
want
of
something
had
,
I
am
conscious
,
some
place
in
my
heart
;
but
not
to
the
embitterment
of
my
life
.
When
I
walked
alone
in
the
fine
weather
,
and
thought
of
the
summer
days
when
all
the
air
had
been
filled
with
my
boyish
enchantment
,
I
did
miss
something
of
the
realization
of
my
dreams
;
but
I
thought
it
was
a
softened
glory
of
the
Past
,
which
nothing
could
have
thrown
upon
the
present
time
.
