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- Чарльз Диккенс
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‘
No
,
thank
you
,
sir
,
’
said
Little
Dorrit
.
‘
Busy
,
I
see
,
’
observed
Mr
Pancks
,
stealing
into
the
room
by
inches
.
‘
What
are
those
now
,
Miss
Dorrit
?
’
‘
Handkerchiefs
.
’
‘
Are
they
,
though
!
’
said
Pancks
.
‘
I
shouldn
’
t
have
thought
it
.
’
Not
in
the
least
looking
at
them
,
but
looking
at
Little
Dorrit
.
‘
Perhaps
you
wonder
who
I
am
.
Shall
I
tell
you
?
I
am
a
fortune
-
teller
.
’
Little
Dorrit
now
began
to
think
he
was
mad
.
‘
I
belong
body
and
soul
to
my
proprietor
,
’
said
Pancks
;
‘
you
saw
my
proprietor
having
his
dinner
below
.
But
I
do
a
little
in
the
other
way
,
sometimes
;
privately
,
very
privately
,
Miss
Dorrit
.
’
Little
Dorrit
looked
at
him
doubtfully
,
and
not
without
alarm
.
‘
I
wish
you
’
d
show
me
the
palm
of
your
hand
,
’
said
Pancks
.
‘
I
should
like
to
have
a
look
at
it
.
Don
’
t
let
me
be
troublesome
.
’
He
was
so
far
troublesome
that
he
was
not
at
all
wanted
there
,
but
she
laid
her
work
in
her
lap
for
a
moment
,
and
held
out
her
left
hand
with
her
thimble
on
it
.
‘
Years
of
toil
,
eh
?
’
said
Pancks
,
softly
,
touching
it
with
his
blunt
forefinger
.
‘
But
what
else
are
we
made
for
?
Nothing
.
Hallo
!
’
looking
into
the
lines
.
‘
What
’
s
this
with
bars
?
It
’
s
a
College
!
And
what
’
s
this
with
a
grey
gown
and
a
black
velvet
cap
?
it
’
s
a
father
!
And
what
’
s
this
with
a
clarionet
?
It
’
s
an
uncle
!
And
what
’
s
this
in
dancing
-
shoes
?
It
’
s
a
sister
!
And
what
’
s
this
straggling
about
in
an
idle
sort
of
a
way
?
It
’
s
a
brother
!
And
what
’
s
this
thinking
for
‘
em
all
?
Why
,
this
is
you
,
Miss
Dorrit
!
’
