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- Чарльз Диккенс
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- Стр. 400/859
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‘
Nothin
’
else
,
’
said
Mr
.
Weller
,
shaking
his
head
gravely
;
‘
and
wot
aggrawates
me
,
Samivel
,
is
to
see
’
em
a
-
wastin
’
all
their
time
and
labour
in
making
clothes
for
copper
-
coloured
people
as
don
’
t
want
’
em
,
and
taking
no
notice
of
flesh
-
coloured
Christians
as
do
.
If
I
’
d
my
vay
,
Samivel
,
I
’
d
just
stick
some
o
’
these
here
lazy
shepherds
behind
a
heavy
wheelbarrow
,
and
run
’
em
up
and
down
a
fourteen
-
inch
-
wide
plank
all
day
.
That
’
ud
shake
the
nonsense
out
of
’
em
,
if
anythin
’
vould
.
’
Mr
.
Weller
,
having
delivered
this
gentle
recipe
with
strong
emphasis
,
eked
out
by
a
variety
of
nods
and
contortions
of
the
eye
,
emptied
his
glass
at
a
draught
,
and
knocked
the
ashes
out
of
his
pipe
,
with
native
dignity
.
He
was
engaged
in
this
operation
,
when
a
shrill
voice
was
heard
in
the
passage
.
‘
Here
’
s
your
dear
relation
,
Sammy
,
’
said
Mr
.
Weller
;
and
Mrs
.
W
.
hurried
into
the
room
.
‘
Oh
,
you
’
ve
come
back
,
have
you
!
’
said
Mrs
.
Weller
.
‘
Yes
,
my
dear
,
’
replied
Mr
.
Weller
,
filling
a
fresh
pipe
.
‘
Has
Mr
.
Stiggins
been
back
?
’
said
Mrs
.
Weller
.
‘
No
,
my
dear
,
he
hasn
’
t
,
’
replied
Mr
.
Weller
,
lighting
the
pipe
by
the
ingenious
process
of
holding
to
the
bowl
thereof
,
between
the
tongs
,
a
red
-
hot
coal
from
the
adjacent
fire
;
and
what
’
s
more
,
my
dear
,
I
shall
manage
to
surwive
it
,
if
he
don
’
t
come
back
at
all
.
’
‘
Ugh
,
you
wretch
!
’
said
Mrs
.
Weller
.
