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- Чарльз Диккенс
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- Посмертные записки Пиквикского клуба
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- Стр. 546/859
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Upon
these
were
laid
knives
and
forks
for
six
or
eight
people
.
Some
of
the
knife
handles
were
green
,
others
red
,
and
a
few
yellow
;
and
as
all
the
forks
were
black
,
the
combination
of
colours
was
exceedingly
striking
.
Plates
for
a
corresponding
number
of
guests
were
warming
behind
the
fender
;
and
the
guests
themselves
were
warming
before
it
:
the
chief
and
most
important
of
whom
appeared
to
be
a
stoutish
gentleman
in
a
bright
crimson
coat
with
long
tails
,
vividly
red
breeches
,
and
a
cocked
hat
,
who
was
standing
with
his
back
to
the
fire
,
and
had
apparently
just
entered
,
for
besides
retaining
his
cocked
hat
on
his
head
,
he
carried
in
his
hand
a
high
stick
,
such
as
gentlemen
of
his
profession
usually
elevate
in
a
sloping
position
over
the
roofs
of
carriages
.
‘
Smauker
,
my
lad
,
your
fin
,
’
said
the
gentleman
with
the
cocked
hat
.
Mr
.
Smauker
dovetailed
the
top
joint
of
his
right
-
hand
little
finger
into
that
of
the
gentleman
with
the
cocked
hat
,
and
said
he
was
charmed
to
see
him
looking
so
well
.
‘
Well
,
they
tell
me
I
am
looking
pretty
blooming
,
’
said
the
man
with
the
cocked
hat
,
‘
and
it
’
s
a
wonder
,
too
.
I
’
ve
been
following
our
old
woman
about
,
two
hours
a
day
,
for
the
last
fortnight
;
and
if
a
constant
contemplation
of
the
manner
in
which
she
hooks
-
and
-
eyes
that
infernal
lavender
-
coloured
old
gown
of
hers
behind
,
isn
’
t
enough
to
throw
anybody
into
a
low
state
of
despondency
for
life
,
stop
my
quarter
’
s
salary
.
’
At
this
,
the
assembled
selections
laughed
very
heartily
;
and
one
gentleman
in
a
yellow
waistcoat
,
with
a
coach
-
trimming
border
,
whispered
a
neighbour
in
green
-
foil
smalls
,
that
Tuckle
was
in
spirits
to
-
night
.
‘
By
the
bye
,
’
said
Mr
.
Tuckle
,
‘
Smauker
,
my
boy
,
you
—
’
The
remainder
of
the
sentence
was
forwarded
into
Mr
.
John
Smauker
’
s
ear
,
by
whisper
.
‘
Oh
,
dear
me
,
I
quite
forgot
,
’
said
Mr
.
John
Smauker
.
‘
Gentlemen
,
my
friend
Mr
.
Weller
.
’
‘
Sorry
to
keep
the
fire
off
you
,
Weller
,
’
said
Mr
.
Tuckle
,
with
a
familiar
nod
.
‘
Hope
you
’
re
not
cold
,
Weller
.
’
‘
Not
by
no
means
,
Blazes
,
’
replied
Sam
.
‘
It
’
ud
be
a
wery
chilly
subject
as
felt
cold
wen
you
stood
opposite
.
You
’
d
save
coals
if
they
put
you
behind
the
fender
in
the
waitin
’
-
room
at
a
public
office
,
you
would
.
’
