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- Чарльз Диккенс
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- Посмертные записки Пиквикского клуба
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- Стр. 379/859
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‘
Sam
,
’
said
Mr
.
Pickwick
,
as
Mr
.
Weller
was
following
.
‘
Sir
.
’
‘
Stay
here
.
’
Mr
.
Weller
seemed
uncertain
.
‘
Stay
here
,
’
repeated
Mr
.
Pickwick
.
‘
Mayn
’
t
I
polish
that
‘
ere
Job
off
,
in
the
front
garden
?
’
said
Mr
.
Weller
.
‘
Certainly
not
,
’
replied
Mr
.
Pickwick
.
‘
Mayn
’
t
I
kick
him
out
o
’
the
gate
,
Sir
?
’
said
Mr
.
Weller
.
‘
Not
on
any
account
,
’
replied
his
master
.
For
the
first
time
since
his
engagement
,
Mr
.
Weller
looked
,
for
a
moment
,
discontented
and
unhappy
.
But
his
countenance
immediately
cleared
up
;
for
the
wily
Mr
.
Muzzle
,
by
concealing
himself
behind
the
street
door
,
and
rushing
violently
out
,
at
the
right
instant
,
contrived
with
great
dexterity
to
overturn
both
Mr
.
Jingle
and
his
attendant
,
down
the
flight
of
steps
,
into
the
American
aloe
tubs
that
stood
beneath
.
‘
Having
discharged
my
duty
,
Sir
,
’
said
Mr
.
Pickwick
to
Mr
.
Nupkins
,
‘
I
will
,
with
my
friends
,
bid
you
farewell
.
While
we
thank
you
for
such
hospitality
as
we
have
received
,
permit
me
to
assure
you
,
in
our
joint
names
,
that
we
should
not
have
accepted
it
,
or
have
consented
to
extricate
ourselves
in
this
way
,
from
our
previous
dilemma
,
had
we
not
been
impelled
by
a
strong
sense
of
duty
.
We
return
to
London
to
-
morrow
.
Your
secret
is
safe
with
us
.
’
