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- Чарльз Диккенс
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- Посмертные записки Пиквикского клуба
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- Стр. 380/859
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Having
thus
entered
his
protest
against
their
treatment
of
the
morning
,
Mr
.
Pickwick
bowed
low
to
the
ladies
,
and
notwithstanding
the
solicitations
of
the
family
,
left
the
room
with
his
friends
.
‘
Get
your
hat
,
Sam
,
’
said
Mr
.
Pickwick
.
‘
It
’
s
below
stairs
,
Sir
,
’
said
Sam
,
and
he
ran
down
after
it
.
Now
,
there
was
nobody
in
the
kitchen
,
but
the
pretty
housemaid
;
and
as
Sam
’
s
hat
was
mislaid
,
he
had
to
look
for
it
,
and
the
pretty
housemaid
lighted
him
.
They
had
to
look
all
over
the
place
for
the
hat
.
The
pretty
housemaid
,
in
her
anxiety
to
find
it
,
went
down
on
her
knees
,
and
turned
over
all
the
things
that
were
heaped
together
in
a
little
corner
by
the
door
.
It
was
an
awkward
corner
.
You
couldn
’
t
get
at
it
without
shutting
the
door
first
.
‘
Here
it
is
,
’
said
the
pretty
housemaid
.
‘
This
is
it
,
ain
’
t
it
?
’
‘
Let
me
look
,
’
said
Sam
.
The
pretty
housemaid
had
stood
the
candle
on
the
floor
;
and
,
as
it
gave
a
very
dim
light
,
Sam
was
obliged
to
go
down
on
HIS
knees
before
he
could
see
whether
it
really
was
his
own
hat
or
not
.
it
was
a
remarkably
small
corner
,
and
so
—
it
was
nobody
’
s
fault
but
the
man
’
s
who
built
the
house
—
Sam
and
the
pretty
housemaid
were
necessarily
very
close
together
.
‘
Yes
,
this
is
it
,
’
said
Sam
.
‘
Good
-
bye
!
’
‘
Good
-
bye
!
’
said
the
pretty
housemaid
.
‘
Good
-
bye
!
’
said
Sam
;
and
as
he
said
it
,
he
dropped
the
hat
that
had
cost
so
much
trouble
in
looking
for
.
