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- Чарльз Диккенс
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- Дэвид Копперфильд
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- Стр. 67/820
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‘
Chops
,
’
I
said
.
‘
Lord
bless
my
soul
!
’
he
exclaimed
,
‘
I
didn
’
t
know
they
were
chops
.
Why
,
a
chop
’
s
the
very
thing
to
take
off
the
bad
effects
of
that
beer
!
Ain
’
t
it
lucky
?
’
So
he
took
a
chop
by
the
bone
in
one
hand
,
and
a
potato
in
the
other
,
and
ate
away
with
a
very
good
appetite
,
to
my
extreme
satisfaction
.
He
afterwards
took
another
chop
,
and
another
potato
;
and
after
that
,
another
chop
and
another
potato
.
When
we
had
done
,
he
brought
me
a
pudding
,
and
having
set
it
before
me
,
seemed
to
ruminate
,
and
to
become
absent
in
his
mind
for
some
moments
.
‘
How
’
s
the
pie
?
’
he
said
,
rousing
himself
.
‘
It
’
s
a
pudding
,
’
I
made
answer
.
‘
Pudding
!
’
he
exclaimed
.
‘
Why
,
bless
me
,
so
it
is
!
What
!
’
looking
at
it
nearer
.
‘
You
don
’
t
mean
to
say
it
’
s
a
batter
-
pudding
!
’
‘
Yes
,
it
is
indeed
.
’
‘
Why
,
a
batter
-
pudding
,
’
he
said
,
taking
up
a
table
-
spoon
,
‘
is
my
favourite
pudding
!
Ain
’
t
that
lucky
?
Come
on
,
little
‘
un
,
and
let
’
s
see
who
’
ll
get
most
.
’
The
waiter
certainly
got
most
.
He
entreated
me
more
than
once
to
come
in
and
win
,
but
what
with
his
table
-
spoon
to
my
tea
-
spoon
,
his
dispatch
to
my
dispatch
,
and
his
appetite
to
my
appetite
,
I
was
left
far
behind
at
the
first
mouthful
,
and
had
no
chance
with
him
.
I
never
saw
anyone
enjoy
a
pudding
so
much
,
I
think
;
and
he
laughed
,
when
it
was
all
gone
,
as
if
his
enjoyment
of
it
lasted
still
.
Finding
him
so
very
friendly
and
companionable
,
it
was
then
that
I
asked
for
the
pen
and
ink
and
paper
,
to
write
to
Peggotty
.
He
not
only
brought
it
immediately
,
but
was
good
enough
to
look
over
me
while
I
wrote
the
letter
.
When
I
had
finished
it
,
he
asked
me
where
I
was
going
to
school
.
