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- Чарльз Диккенс
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- Оливер Твист
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- Стр. 169/420
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Having
held
the
first
bottle
up
to
the
light
,
and
shaken
it
well
to
test
its
excellence
,
Mr.
Bumble
placed
them
both
on
top
of
a
chest
of
drawers
;
folded
the
handkerchief
in
which
they
had
been
wrapped
;
put
it
carefully
in
his
pocket
;
and
took
up
his
hat
,
as
if
to
go
.
'
You
'll
have
a
very
cold
walk
,
Mr.
Bumble
,
'
said
the
matron
.
'
It
blows
,
ma'am
,
'
replied
Mr.
Bumble
,
turning
up
his
coat-collar
,
'
enough
to
cut
one
's
ears
off
.
'
The
matron
looked
,
from
the
little
kettle
,
to
the
beadle
,
who
was
moving
towards
the
door
;
and
as
the
beadle
coughed
,
preparatory
to
bidding
her
good-night
,
bashfully
inquired
whether
--
whether
he
would
n't
take
a
cup
of
tea
?
Mr.
Bumble
instantaneously
turned
back
his
collar
again
;
laid
his
hat
and
stick
upon
a
chair
;
and
drew
another
chair
up
to
the
table
.
As
he
slowly
seated
himself
,
he
looked
at
the
lady
.
She
fixed
her
eyes
upon
the
little
teapot
.
Mr.
Bumble
coughed
again
,
and
slightly
smiled
.
Mrs.
Corney
rose
to
get
another
cup
and
saucer
from
the
closet
.
As
she
sat
down
,
her
eyes
once
again
encountered
those
of
the
gallant
beadle
;
she
coloured
,
and
applied
herself
to
the
task
of
making
his
tea
.
Again
Mr.
Bumble
coughed
--
louder
this
time
than
he
had
coughed
yet
.
'
Sweet
?
Mr.
Bumble
?
'
inquired
the
matron
,
taking
up
the
sugar-basin
.
'
Very
sweet
,
indeed
,
ma'am
,
'
replied
Mr.
Bumble
.
He
fixed
his
eyes
on
Mrs.
Corney
as
he
said
this
;
and
if
ever
a
beadle
looked
tender
,
Mr.
Bumble
was
that
beadle
at
that
moment
.
The
tea
was
made
,
and
handed
in
silence
.
Mr.
