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- Чарльз Диккенс
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- Стр. 742/859
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Mr
.
Ben
Allen
looked
at
Mr
.
Pickwick
;
Mr
.
Pickwick
looked
at
Mr
.
Ben
Allen
;
Mr
.
Ben
Allen
smiled
;
Mr
.
Pickwick
did
not
.
‘
It
would
serve
him
right
,
’
said
the
last
-
named
gentleman
,
with
some
severity
—
‘
it
would
serve
him
right
to
drink
it
every
drop
.
’
‘
The
very
thing
that
occurred
to
me
,
’
said
Ben
Allen
.
‘
Is
it
,
indeed
?
’
rejoined
Mr
.
Pickwick
.
‘
Then
here
’
s
his
health
!
’
With
these
words
,
that
excellent
person
took
a
most
energetic
pull
at
the
bottle
,
and
handed
it
to
Ben
Allen
,
who
was
not
slow
to
imitate
his
example
.
The
smiles
became
mutual
,
and
the
milk
-
punch
was
gradually
and
cheerfully
disposed
of
.
‘
After
all
,
’
said
Mr
.
Pickwick
,
as
he
drained
the
last
drop
,
‘
his
pranks
are
really
very
amusing
;
very
entertaining
indeed
.
’
‘
You
may
say
that
,
’
rejoined
Mr
.
Ben
Allen
.
In
proof
of
Bob
Sawyer
’
s
being
one
of
the
funniest
fellows
alive
,
he
proceeded
to
entertain
Mr
.
Pickwick
with
a
long
and
circumstantial
account
how
that
gentleman
once
drank
himself
into
a
fever
and
got
his
head
shaved
;
the
relation
of
which
pleasant
and
agreeable
history
was
only
stopped
by
the
stoppage
of
the
chaise
at
the
Bell
at
Berkeley
Heath
,
to
change
horses
.
‘
I
say
!
We
’
re
going
to
dine
here
,
aren
’
t
we
?
’
said
Bob
,
looking
in
at
the
window
.
‘
Dine
!
’
said
Mr
.
Pickwick
.
‘
Why
,
we
have
only
come
nineteen
miles
,
and
have
eighty
-
seven
and
a
half
to
go
.
’
‘
Just
the
reason
why
we
should
take
something
to
enable
us
to
bear
up
against
the
fatigue
,
’
remonstrated
Mr
.
Bob
Sawyer
.
