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- Чарльз Диккенс
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- Посмертные записки Пиквикского клуба
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- Стр. 716/859
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‘
Mr
.
Allen
,
’
said
Mr
.
Pickwick
,
‘
what
is
the
matter
,
Sir
?
’
‘
Never
mind
,
Sir
!
’
replied
Mr
.
Allen
,
with
haughty
defiance
.
‘
What
is
it
?
’
inquired
Mr
.
Pickwick
,
looking
at
Bob
Sawyer
.
‘
Is
he
unwell
?
’
Before
Bob
could
reply
,
Mr
.
Ben
Allen
seized
Mr
.
Pickwick
by
the
hand
,
and
murmured
,
in
sorrowful
accents
,
‘
My
sister
,
my
dear
Sir
;
my
sister
.
’
‘
Oh
,
is
that
all
!
’
said
Mr
.
Pickwick
.
‘
We
shall
easily
arrange
that
matter
,
I
hope
.
Your
sister
is
safe
and
well
,
and
I
am
here
,
my
dear
Sir
,
to
—
’
‘
Sorry
to
do
anythin
’
as
may
cause
an
interruption
to
such
wery
pleasant
proceedin
’
s
,
as
the
king
said
wen
he
dissolved
the
parliament
,
’
interposed
Mr
.
Weller
,
who
had
been
peeping
through
the
glass
door
;
‘
but
there
’
s
another
experiment
here
,
sir
.
Here
’
s
a
wenerable
old
lady
a
—
lyin
’
on
the
carpet
waitin
’
for
dissection
,
or
galwinism
,
or
some
other
rewivin
’
and
scientific
inwention
.
’
‘
I
forgot
,
’
exclaimed
Mr
.
Ben
Allen
.
‘
It
is
my
aunt
.
’
‘
Dear
me
!
’
said
Mr
.
Pickwick
.
‘
Poor
lady
!
Gently
Sam
,
gently
.
’
‘
Strange
sitivation
for
one
o
’
the
family
,
’
observed
Sam
Weller
,
hoisting
the
aunt
into
a
chair
.
‘
Now
depitty
sawbones
,
bring
out
the
wollatilly
!
’
