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- Чарльз Диккенс
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- Посмертные записки Пиквикского клуба
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- Стр. 634/859
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‘
Samivel
!
’
exclaimed
Mr
.
Weller
,
when
he
was
thus
enabled
to
behold
his
rescuer
.
Sam
nodded
.
‘
You
’
re
a
dutiful
and
affectionate
little
boy
,
you
are
,
ain
’
t
you
,
’
said
Mr
.
Weller
,
‘
to
come
a
-
bonnetin
’
your
father
in
his
old
age
?
’
‘
How
should
I
know
who
you
wos
?
’
responded
the
son
.
‘
Do
you
s
’
pose
I
wos
to
tell
you
by
the
weight
o
’
your
foot
?
’
‘
Vell
,
that
’
s
wery
true
,
Sammy
,
’
replied
Mr
.
Weller
,
mollified
at
once
;
‘
but
wot
are
you
a
-
doin
’
on
here
?
Your
gov
’
nor
can
’
t
do
no
good
here
,
Sammy
.
They
won
’
t
pass
that
werdick
,
they
won
’
t
pass
it
,
Sammy
.
’
And
Mr
.
Weller
shook
his
head
with
legal
solemnity
.
‘
Wot
a
perwerse
old
file
it
is
!
’
exclaimed
Sam
.
‘
always
a
-
goin
’
on
about
werdicks
and
alleybis
and
that
.
Who
said
anything
about
the
werdick
?
’
Mr
.
Weller
made
no
reply
,
but
once
more
shook
his
head
most
learnedly
.
‘
Leave
off
rattlin
’
that
‘
ere
nob
o
’
yourn
,
if
you
don
’
t
want
it
to
come
off
the
springs
altogether
,
’
said
Sam
impatiently
,
‘
and
behave
reasonable
.
I
vent
all
the
vay
down
to
the
Markis
o
’
Granby
,
arter
you
,
last
night
.
’
‘
Did
you
see
the
Marchioness
o
’
Granby
,
Sammy
?
’
inquired
Mr
.
Weller
,
with
a
sigh
.
