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- Чарльз Диккенс
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- Дэвид Копперфильд
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- Стр. 77/820
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I
picture
my
small
self
in
the
dimly
-
lighted
rooms
,
sitting
with
my
head
upon
my
hand
,
listening
to
the
doleful
performance
of
Mr
.
Mell
,
and
conning
tomorrow
’
s
lessons
.
I
picture
myself
with
my
books
shut
up
,
still
listening
to
the
doleful
performance
of
Mr
.
Mell
,
and
listening
through
it
to
what
used
to
be
at
home
,
and
to
the
blowing
of
the
wind
on
Yarmouth
flats
,
and
feeling
very
sad
and
solitary
.
I
picture
myself
going
up
to
bed
,
among
the
unused
rooms
,
and
sitting
on
my
bed
-
side
crying
for
a
comfortable
word
from
Peggotty
.
I
picture
myself
coming
downstairs
in
the
morning
,
and
looking
through
a
long
ghastly
gash
of
a
staircase
window
at
the
school
-
bell
hanging
on
the
top
of
an
out
-
house
with
a
weathercock
above
it
;
and
dreading
the
time
when
it
shall
ring
J
Steerforth
and
the
rest
to
work
:
which
is
only
second
,
in
my
foreboding
apprehensions
,
to
the
time
when
the
man
with
the
wooden
leg
shall
unlock
the
rusty
gate
to
give
admission
to
the
awful
Mr
.
Creakle
.
I
cannot
think
I
was
a
very
dangerous
character
in
any
of
these
aspects
,
but
in
all
of
them
I
carried
the
same
warning
on
my
back
.
Mr
.
Mell
never
said
much
to
me
,
but
he
was
never
harsh
to
me
.
I
suppose
we
were
company
to
each
other
,
without
talking
.
I
forgot
to
mention
that
he
would
talk
to
himself
sometimes
,
and
grin
,
and
clench
his
fist
,
and
grind
his
teeth
,
and
pull
his
hair
in
an
unaccountable
manner
.
But
he
had
these
peculiarities
:
and
at
first
they
frightened
me
,
though
I
soon
got
used
to
them
.
IHAD
led
this
life
about
a
month
,
when
the
man
with
the
wooden
leg
began
to
stump
about
with
a
mop
and
a
bucket
of
water
,
from
which
I
inferred
that
preparations
were
making
to
receive
Mr
.
Creakle
and
the
boys
.
I
was
not
mistaken
;
for
the
mop
came
into
the
schoolroom
before
long
,
and
turned
out
Mr
.
Mell
and
me
,
who
lived
where
we
could
,
and
got
on
how
we
could
,
for
some
days
,
during
which
we
were
always
in
the
way
of
two
or
three
young
women
,
who
had
rarely
shown
themselves
before
,
and
were
so
continually
in
the
midst
of
dust
that
I
sneezed
almost
as
much
as
if
Salem
House
had
been
a
great
snuff
-
box
.
One
day
I
was
informed
by
Mr
.
Mell
that
Mr
.
Creakle
would
be
home
that
evening
.
In
the
evening
,
after
tea
,
I
heard
that
he
was
come
.
Before
bedtime
,
I
was
fetched
by
the
man
with
the
wooden
leg
to
appear
before
him
.
Mr
.
Creakle
’
s
part
of
the
house
was
a
good
deal
more
comfortable
than
ours
,
and
he
had
a
snug
bit
of
garden
that
looked
pleasant
after
the
dusty
playground
,
which
was
such
a
desert
in
miniature
,
that
I
thought
no
one
but
a
camel
,
or
a
dromedary
,
could
have
felt
at
home
in
it
.
It
seemed
to
me
a
bold
thing
even
to
take
notice
that
the
passage
looked
comfortable
,
as
I
went
on
my
way
,
trembling
,
to
Mr
.
Creakle
’
s
presence
:
which
so
abashed
me
,
when
I
was
ushered
into
it
,
that
I
hardly
saw
Mrs
.
Creakle
or
Miss
Creakle
(
who
were
both
there
,
in
the
parlour
)
,
or
anything
but
Mr
.
Creakle
,
a
stout
gentleman
with
a
bunch
of
watch
-
chain
and
seals
,
in
an
arm
-
chair
,
with
a
tumbler
and
bottle
beside
him
.
‘
So
!
’
said
Mr
.
Creakle
.
‘
This
is
the
young
gentleman
whose
teeth
are
to
be
filed
!
Turn
him
round
.
’
The
wooden
-
legged
man
turned
me
about
so
as
to
exhibit
the
placard
;
and
having
afforded
time
for
a
full
survey
of
it
,
turned
me
about
again
,
with
my
face
to
Mr
.
Creakle
,
and
posted
himself
at
Mr
.
Creakle
’
s
side
.
Mr
.
Creakle
’
s
face
was
fiery
,
and
his
eyes
were
small
,
and
deep
in
his
head
;
he
had
thick
veins
in
his
forehead
,
a
little
nose
,
and
a
large
chin
.
He
was
bald
on
the
top
of
his
head
;
and
had
some
thin
wet
-
looking
hair
that
was
just
turning
grey
,
brushed
across
each
temple
,
so
that
the
two
sides
interlaced
on
his
forehead
.
But
the
circumstance
about
him
which
impressed
me
most
,
was
,
that
he
had
no
voice
,
but
spoke
in
a
whisper
.
The
exertion
this
cost
him
,
or
the
consciousness
of
talking
in
that
feeble
way
,
made
his
angry
face
so
much
more
angry
,
and
his
thick
veins
so
much
thicker
,
when
he
spoke
,
that
I
am
not
surprised
,
on
looking
back
,
at
this
peculiarity
striking
me
as
his
chief
one
.
‘
Now
,
’
said
Mr
.
Creakle
.
‘
What
’
s
the
report
of
this
boy
?
’
‘
There
’
s
nothing
against
him
yet
,
’
returned
the
man
with
the
wooden
leg
.
‘
There
has
been
no
opportunity
.
’
I
thought
Mr
.
Creakle
was
disappointed
.
I
thought
Mrs
.
and
Miss
Creakle
(
at
whom
I
now
glanced
for
the
first
time
,
and
who
were
,
both
,
thin
and
quiet
)
were
not
disappointed
.
