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- Чарльз Диккенс
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‘
Lauk
,
Mr
.
Weller
,
’
said
Mary
,
‘
how
you
do
frighten
one
!
’
Sam
made
no
verbal
answer
to
this
complaint
,
nor
can
we
precisely
say
what
reply
he
did
make
.
We
merely
know
that
after
a
short
pause
Mary
said
,
‘
Lor
,
do
adun
,
Mr
.
Weller
!
’
and
that
his
hat
had
fallen
off
a
few
moments
before
—
from
both
of
which
tokens
we
should
be
disposed
to
infer
that
one
kiss
,
or
more
,
had
passed
between
the
parties
.
‘
Why
,
how
did
you
come
here
?
’
said
Mary
,
when
the
conversation
to
which
this
interruption
had
been
offered
,
was
resumed
.
‘
O
’
course
I
came
to
look
arter
you
,
my
darlin
’
,
’
replied
Mr
.
Weller
;
for
once
permitting
his
passion
to
get
the
better
of
his
veracity
.
‘
And
how
did
you
know
I
was
here
?
’
inquired
Mary
.
‘
Who
could
have
told
you
that
I
took
another
service
at
Ipswich
,
and
that
they
afterwards
moved
all
the
way
here
?
Who
COULD
have
told
you
that
,
Mr
.
Weller
?
’
‘
Ah
,
to
be
sure
,
’
said
Sam
,
with
a
cunning
look
,
‘
that
’
s
the
pint
.
Who
could
ha
’
told
me
?
’
‘
It
wasn
’
t
Mr
.
Muzzle
,
was
it
?
’
inquired
Mary
.
‘
Oh
,
no
.
’
replied
Sam
,
with
a
solemn
shake
of
the
head
,
‘
it
warn
’
t
him
.
’
‘
It
must
have
been
the
cook
,
’
said
Mary
.
‘
O
’
course
it
must
,
’
said
Sam
.
