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- Чарльз Диккенс
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- Оливер Твист
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- Стр. 204/420
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'
I
ca
n't
manage
any
more
,
'
said
Noah
.
'
I
'm
very
sorry
.
Come
here
,
Charlotte
,
and
I
'll
kiss
yer
.
'
'
What
!
'
said
Mr.
Bumble
,
bursting
into
the
room
.
'
Say
that
again
,
sir
.
'
Charlotte
uttered
a
scream
,
and
hid
her
face
in
her
apron
.
Mr.
Claypole
,
without
making
any
further
change
in
his
position
than
suffering
his
legs
to
reach
the
ground
,
gazed
at
the
beadle
in
drunken
terror
.
'
Say
it
again
,
you
wile
,
owdacious
fellow
!
'
said
Mr.
Bumble
.
'
How
dare
you
mention
such
a
thing
,
sir
?
And
how
dare
you
encourage
him
,
you
insolent
minx
?
Kiss
her
!
'
exclaimed
Mr.
Bumble
,
in
strong
indignation
.
'
Faugh
!
'
'
I
did
n't
mean
to
do
it
!
'
said
Noah
,
blubbering
.
'
She
's
always
a-kissing
of
me
,
whether
I
like
it
,
or
not
.
'
'
Oh
,
Noah
,
'
cried
Charlotte
,
reproachfully
.
'
Yer
are
;
yer
know
yer
are
!
'
retorted
Noah
.
'
She
's
always
a-doin
'
of
it
,
Mr.
Bumble
,
sir
;
she
chucks
me
under
the
chin
,
please
,
sir
;
and
makes
all
manner
of
love
!
'
'
Silence
!
'
cried
Mr.
Bumble
,
sternly
.
'
Take
yourself
downstairs
,
ma'am
.
Noah
,
you
shut
up
the
shop
;
say
another
word
till
your
master
comes
home
,
at
your
peril
;
and
,
when
he
does
come
home
,
tell
him
that
Mr.
Bumble
said
he
was
to
send
a
old
woman
's
shell
after
breakfast
to-morrow
morning
.
Do
you
hear
sir
?
Kissing
!
'
cried
Mr.
Bumble
,
holding
up
his
hands
.
'
The
sin
and
wickedness
of
the
lower
orders
in
this
porochial
district
is
frightful
!
If
Parliament
do
n't
take
their
abominable
courses
under
consideration
,
this
country
's
ruined
,
and
the
character
of
the
peasantry
gone
for
ever
!
'
With
these
words
,
the
beadle
strode
,
with
a
lofty
and
gloomy
air
,
from
the
undertaker
's
premises
And
now
that
we
have
accompanied
him
so
far
on
his
road
home
,
and
have
made
all
necessary
preparations
for
the
old
woman
's
funeral
,
let
us
set
on
foot
a
few
inquires
after
young
Oliver
Twist
,
and
ascertain
whether
he
be
still
lying
in
the
ditch
where
Toby
Crackit
left
him
.
'
Wolves
tear
your
throats
!
'
muttered
Sikes
,
grinding
his
teeth
.
'
I
wish
I
was
among
some
of
you
;
you
'd
howl
the
hoarser
for
it
.
'
