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- Чарльз Диккенс
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- Лавка древностей
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- Стр. 124/459
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Her
thoughts
were
not
idle
while
she
was
thus
employed
;
when
she
returned
and
was
seated
beside
the
old
man
in
one
corner
of
the
tent
,
tying
her
flowers
together
,
while
the
two
men
lay
dozing
in
another
corner
,
she
plucked
him
by
the
sleeve
,
and
slightly
glancing
towards
them
,
said
,
in
a
low
voice
—
‘
Grandfather
,
don
’
t
look
at
those
I
talk
of
,
and
don
’
t
seem
as
if
I
spoke
of
anything
but
what
I
am
about
.
What
was
that
you
told
me
before
we
left
the
old
house
?
That
if
they
knew
what
we
were
going
to
do
,
they
would
say
that
you
were
mad
,
and
part
us
?
’
The
old
man
turned
to
her
with
an
aspect
of
wild
terror
;
but
she
checked
him
by
a
look
,
and
bidding
him
hold
some
flowers
while
she
tied
them
up
,
and
so
bringing
her
lips
closer
to
his
ear
,
said
—
‘
I
know
that
was
what
you
told
me
.
You
needn
’
t
speak
,
dear
.
I
recollect
it
very
well
.
It
was
not
likely
that
I
should
forget
it
.
Grandfather
,
these
men
suspect
that
we
have
secretly
left
our
friends
,
and
mean
to
carry
us
before
some
gentleman
and
have
us
taken
care
of
and
sent
back
.
If
you
let
your
hand
tremble
so
,
we
can
never
get
away
from
them
,
but
if
you
’
re
only
quiet
now
,
we
shall
do
so
,
easily
.
’
‘
How
?
’
muttered
the
old
man
.
‘
Dear
Nelly
,
how
?
They
will
shut
me
up
in
a
stone
room
,
dark
and
cold
,
and
chain
me
up
to
the
wall
,
Nell
—
flog
me
with
whips
,
and
never
let
me
see
thee
more
!
’
‘
You
’
re
trembling
again
,
’
said
the
child
.
‘
Keep
close
to
me
all
day
.
Never
mind
them
,
don
’
t
look
at
them
,
but
me
.
I
shall
find
a
time
when
we
can
steal
away
.
When
I
do
,
mind
you
come
with
me
,
and
do
not
stop
or
speak
a
word
.
Hush
!
That
’
s
all
.
’
‘
Halloa
!
what
are
you
up
to
,
my
dear
?
’
said
Mr
Codlin
,
raising
his
head
,
and
yawning
.
Then
observing
that
his
companion
was
fast
asleep
,
he
added
in
an
earnest
whisper
,
‘
Codlin
’
s
the
friend
,
remember
—
not
Short
.
’
‘
Making
some
nosegays
,
’
the
child
replied
;
‘
I
am
going
to
try
and
sell
some
,
these
three
days
of
the
races
.
Will
you
have
one
—
as
a
present
I
mean
?
’
Mr
Codlin
would
have
risen
to
receive
it
,
but
the
child
hurried
towards
him
and
placed
it
in
his
hand
.
He
stuck
it
in
his
buttonhole
with
an
air
of
ineffable
complacency
for
a
misanthrope
,
and
leering
exultingly
at
the
unconscious
Short
,
muttered
,
as
he
laid
himself
down
again
,
‘
Tom
Codlin
’
s
the
friend
,
by
G
—
!
’
