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- Чарльз Диккенс
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I
begin
to
see
now
,
"
she
says
,
"
ven
it
’
s
too
late
,
that
if
a
married
‘
ooman
vishes
to
be
religious
,
she
should
begin
vith
dischargin
’
her
dooties
at
home
,
and
makin
’
them
as
is
about
her
cheerful
and
happy
,
and
that
vile
she
goes
to
church
,
or
chapel
,
or
wot
not
,
at
all
proper
times
,
she
should
be
wery
careful
not
to
con
-
wert
this
sort
o
’
thing
into
a
excuse
for
idleness
or
self
-
indulgence
.
I
have
done
this
,
"
she
says
,
"
and
I
’
ve
vasted
time
and
substance
on
them
as
has
done
it
more
than
me
;
but
I
hope
ven
I
’
m
gone
,
Veller
,
that
you
’
ll
think
on
me
as
I
wos
afore
I
know
’
d
them
people
,
and
as
I
raly
wos
by
natur
.
"
‘
"
Susan
,
"
says
I
—
I
wos
took
up
wery
short
by
this
,
Samivel
;
I
von
’
t
deny
it
,
my
boy
—
"
Susan
,
"
I
says
,
"
you
’
ve
been
a
wery
good
vife
to
me
,
altogether
;
don
’
t
say
nothin
’
at
all
about
it
;
keep
a
good
heart
,
my
dear
;
and
you
’
ll
live
to
see
me
punch
that
‘
ere
Stiggins
’
s
head
yet
.
"
She
smiled
at
this
,
Samivel
,
’
said
the
old
gentleman
,
stifling
a
sigh
with
his
pipe
,
‘
but
she
died
arter
all
!
’
‘
Vell
,
’
said
Sam
,
venturing
to
offer
a
little
homely
consolation
,
after
the
lapse
of
three
or
four
minutes
,
consumed
by
the
old
gentleman
in
slowly
shaking
his
head
from
side
to
side
,
and
solemnly
smoking
,
‘
vell
,
gov
’
nor
,
ve
must
all
come
to
it
,
one
day
or
another
.
’
‘
So
we
must
,
Sammy
,
’
said
Mr
.
Weller
the
elder
.
‘
There
’
s
a
Providence
in
it
all
,
’
said
Sam
.
‘
O
’
course
there
is
,
’
replied
his
father
,
with
a
nod
of
grave
approval
.
‘
Wot
’
ud
become
of
the
undertakers
vithout
it
,
Sammy
?
’
Lost
in
the
immense
field
of
conjecture
opened
by
this
reflection
,
the
elder
Mr
.
Weller
laid
his
pipe
on
the
table
,
and
stirred
the
fire
with
a
meditative
visage
.
While
the
old
gentleman
was
thus
engaged
,
a
very
buxom
–
looking
cook
,
dressed
in
mourning
,
who
had
been
bustling
about
,
in
the
bar
,
glided
into
the
room
,
and
bestowing
many
smirks
of
recognition
upon
Sam
,
silently
stationed
herself
at
the
back
of
his
father
’
s
chair
,
and
announced
her
presence
by
a
slight
cough
,
the
which
,
being
disregarded
,
was
followed
by
a
louder
one
.
‘
Hollo
!
’
said
the
elder
Mr
.
Weller
,
dropping
the
poker
as
he
looked
round
,
and
hastily
drew
his
chair
away
.
‘
Wot
’
s
the
matter
now
?
’
‘
Have
a
cup
of
tea
,
there
’
s
a
good
soul
,
’
replied
the
buxom
female
coaxingly
.
‘
I
von
’
t
,
’
replied
Mr
.
Weller
,
in
a
somewhat
boisterous
manner
.
‘
I
’
ll
see
you
—
’
Mr
.
Weller
hastily
checked
himself
,
and
added
in
a
low
tone
,
‘
furder
fust
.
’
