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- Чарльз Диккенс
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- Дэвид Копперфильд
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- Стр. 62/820
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‘
Did
SHE
make
‘
em
,
now
?
’
said
Mr
.
Barkis
,
always
leaning
forward
,
in
his
slouching
way
,
on
the
footboard
of
the
cart
with
an
arm
on
each
knee
.
‘
Peggotty
,
do
you
mean
,
sir
?
’
‘
Ah
!
’
said
Mr
.
Barkis
.
‘
Her
.
’
‘
Yes
.
She
makes
all
our
pastry
,
and
does
all
our
cooking
.
’
‘
Do
she
though
?
’
said
Mr
.
Barkis
.
He
made
up
his
mouth
as
if
to
whistle
,
but
he
didn
’
t
whistle
.
He
sat
looking
at
the
horse
’
s
ears
,
as
if
he
saw
something
new
there
;
and
sat
so
,
for
a
considerable
time
.
By
and
by
,
he
said
:
‘
No
sweethearts
,
I
b
’
lieve
?
’
‘
Sweetmeats
did
you
say
,
Mr
.
Barkis
?
’
For
I
thought
he
wanted
something
else
to
eat
,
and
had
pointedly
alluded
to
that
description
of
refreshment
.
‘
Hearts
,
’
said
Mr
.
Barkis
.
‘
Sweet
hearts
;
no
person
walks
with
her
!
’
‘
With
Peggotty
?
’
‘
Ah
!
’
he
said
.
‘
Her
.
’
