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- Чарльз Диккенс
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"
What
’
s
that
?
"
I
asked
,
in
some
hope
of
bringing
him
to
a
stand
.
But
Joe
was
readier
with
his
definition
than
I
had
expected
,
and
completely
stopped
me
by
arguing
circularly
,
and
answering
with
a
fixed
look
,
"
Her
.
"
"
And
I
ain
’
t
a
master
-
mind
,
"
Joe
resumed
,
when
he
had
unfixed
his
look
,
and
got
back
to
his
whisker
.
"
And
last
of
all
,
Pip
—
and
this
I
want
to
say
very
serious
to
you
,
old
chap
—
I
see
so
much
in
my
poor
mother
,
of
a
woman
drudging
and
slaving
and
breaking
her
honest
hart
and
never
getting
no
peace
in
her
mortal
days
,
that
I
’
m
dead
afeerd
of
going
wrong
in
the
way
of
not
doing
what
’
s
right
by
a
woman
,
and
I
’
d
fur
rather
of
the
two
go
wrong
the
t
’
other
way
,
and
be
a
little
ill
-
conwenienced
myself
.
I
wish
it
was
only
me
that
got
put
out
,
Pip
;
I
wish
there
warn
’
t
no
Tickler
for
you
,
old
chap
;
I
wish
I
could
take
it
all
on
myself
;
but
this
is
the
up
-
and
-
down
-
and
-
straight
on
it
,
Pip
,
and
I
hope
you
’
ll
overlook
shortcomings
.
"
Young
as
I
was
,
I
believe
that
I
dated
a
new
admiration
of
Joe
from
that
night
.
We
were
equals
afterwards
,
as
we
had
been
before
;
but
,
afterwards
at
quiet
times
when
I
sat
looking
at
Joe
and
thinking
about
him
,
I
had
a
new
sensation
of
feeling
conscious
that
I
was
looking
up
to
Joe
in
my
heart
.
"
However
,
"
said
Joe
,
rising
to
replenish
the
fire
;
"
here
’
s
the
Dutch
-
clock
a
working
himself
up
to
being
equal
to
strike
Eight
of
’
em
,
and
she
’
s
not
come
home
yet
!
I
hope
Uncle
Pumblechook
’
s
mare
mayn
’
t
have
set
a
forefoot
on
a
piece
o
’
ice
,
and
gone
down
.
"
Mrs
.
Joe
made
occasional
trips
with
Uncle
Pumblechook
on
market
-
days
,
to
assist
him
in
buying
such
household
stuffs
and
goods
as
required
a
woman
’
s
judgment
;
Uncle
Pumblechook
being
a
bachelor
and
reposing
no
confidences
in
his
domestic
servant
.
This
was
market
-
day
,
and
Mrs
.
Joe
was
out
on
one
of
these
expeditions
.
Joe
made
the
fire
and
swept
the
hearth
,
and
then
we
went
to
the
door
to
listen
for
the
chaise
-
cart
.
It
was
a
dry
cold
night
,
and
the
wind
blew
keenly
,
and
the
frost
was
white
and
hard
.
A
man
would
die
to
-
night
of
lying
out
on
the
marshes
,
I
thought
.
And
then
I
looked
at
the
stars
,
and
considered
how
awful
if
would
be
for
a
man
to
turn
his
face
up
to
them
as
he
froze
to
death
,
and
see
no
help
or
pity
in
all
the
glittering
multitude
.
"
Here
comes
the
mare
,
"
said
Joe
,
"
ringing
like
a
peal
of
bells
!
"
The
sound
of
her
iron
shoes
upon
the
hard
road
was
quite
musical
,
as
she
came
along
at
a
much
brisker
trot
than
usual
.
We
got
a
chair
out
,
ready
for
Mrs
.
Joe
’
s
alighting
,
and
stirred
up
the
fire
that
they
might
see
a
bright
window
,
and
took
a
final
survey
of
the
kitchen
that
nothing
might
be
out
of
its
place
.
When
we
had
completed
these
preparations
,
they
drove
up
,
wrapped
to
the
eyes
.
Mrs
.
Joe
was
soon
landed
,
and
Uncle
Pumblechook
was
soon
down
too
,
covering
the
mare
with
a
cloth
,
and
we
were
soon
all
in
the
kitchen
,
carrying
so
much
cold
air
in
with
us
that
it
seemed
to
drive
all
the
heat
out
of
the
fire
.
"
Now
,
"
said
Mrs
.
Joe
,
unwrapping
herself
with
haste
and
excitement
,
and
throwing
her
bonnet
back
on
her
shoulders
where
it
hung
by
the
strings
,
"
if
this
boy
ain
’
t
grateful
this
night
,
he
never
will
be
!
"
