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- Чарльз Диккенс
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I
had
heard
of
Miss
Havisham
up
town
—
everybody
for
miles
round
had
heard
of
Miss
Havisham
up
town
—
as
an
immensely
rich
and
grim
lady
who
lived
in
a
large
and
dismal
house
barricaded
against
robbers
,
and
who
led
a
life
of
seclusion
.
"
Well
to
be
sure
!
"
said
Joe
,
astounded
.
"
I
wonder
how
she
come
to
know
Pip
!
"
"
Noodle
!
"
cried
my
sister
.
"
Who
said
she
knew
him
?
"
"
—
Which
some
individual
,
"
Joe
again
politely
hinted
,
"
mentioned
that
she
wanted
him
to
go
and
play
there
.
"
"
And
couldn
’
t
she
ask
Uncle
Pumblechook
if
he
knew
of
a
boy
to
go
and
play
there
?
Isn
’
t
it
just
barely
possible
that
Uncle
Pumblechook
may
be
a
tenant
of
hers
,
and
that
he
may
sometimes
—
we
won
’
t
say
quarterly
or
half
-
yearly
,
for
that
would
be
requiring
too
much
of
you
—
but
sometimes
—
go
there
to
pay
his
rent
?
And
couldn
’
t
she
then
ask
Uncle
Pumblechook
if
he
knew
of
a
boy
to
go
and
play
there
?
And
couldn
’
t
Uncle
Pumblechook
,
being
always
considerate
and
thoughtful
for
us
—
though
you
may
not
think
it
,
Joseph
,
"
in
a
tone
of
the
deepest
reproach
,
as
if
he
were
the
most
callous
of
nephews
,
"
then
mention
this
boy
,
standing
Prancing
here
"
—
which
I
solemnly
declare
I
was
not
doing
—
"
that
I
have
for
ever
been
a
willing
slave
to
?
"
"
Good
again
!
"
cried
Uncle
Pumblechook
.
"
Well
put
!
Prettily
pointed
!
Good
indeed
!
Now
Joseph
,
you
know
the
case
.
"
"
No
,
Joseph
,
"
said
my
sister
,
still
in
a
reproachful
manner
,
while
Joe
apologetically
drew
the
back
of
his
hand
across
and
across
his
nose
,
"
you
do
not
yet
—
though
you
may
not
think
it
—
know
the
case
.
You
may
consider
that
you
do
,
but
you
do
not
,
Joseph
.
For
you
do
not
know
that
Uncle
Pumblechook
,
being
sensible
that
for
anything
we
can
tell
,
this
boy
’
s
fortune
may
be
made
by
his
going
to
Miss
Havisham
’
s
,
has
offered
to
take
him
into
town
to
-
night
in
his
own
chaise
-
cart
,
and
to
keep
him
to
-
night
,
and
to
take
him
with
his
own
hands
to
Miss
Havisham
’
s
to
-
morrow
morning
.
And
Lor
-
a
-
mussy
me
!
"
cried
my
sister
,
casting
off
her
bonnet
in
sudden
desperation
,
"
here
I
stand
talking
to
mere
Mooncalfs
,
with
Uncle
Pumblechook
waiting
,
and
the
mare
catching
cold
at
the
door
,
and
the
boy
grimed
with
crock
and
dirt
from
the
hair
of
his
head
to
the
sole
of
his
foot
!
"
With
that
,
she
pounced
upon
me
,
like
an
eagle
on
a
lamb
,
and
my
face
was
squeezed
into
wooden
bowls
in
sinks
,
and
my
head
was
put
under
taps
of
water
-
butts
,
and
I
was
soaped
,
and
kneaded
,
and
towelled
,
and
thumped
,
and
harrowed
,
and
rasped
,
until
I
really
was
quite
beside
myself
.
(
I
may
here
remark
that
I
suppose
myself
to
be
better
acquainted
than
any
living
authority
,
with
the
ridgy
effect
of
a
wedding
-
ring
,
passing
unsympathetically
over
the
human
countenance
.
)
