Посмертные записки Пиквикского клуба

Descriptive of an affecting Interview between Mr. Samuel Weller and a Family Party. Mr. Pickwick mak

           

           ‘Vell,then,wotdoyoudoitfor?’saidSam.‘Now,then,wothaveyougottosay?’

           ‘Whodoyouthink’scomeherewithme,Samivel?’saidMr.Weller,drawingbackapaceortwo,pursinguphismouth,andextendinghiseyebrows.‘Pell?’saidSam.

           Mr.Wellershookhishead,andhisredcheeksexpandedwiththelaughterthatwasendeavouringtofindavent.

           ‘Mottled-facedman,p’raps?’askedSam.

           AgainMr.Wellershookhishead.

           ‘Whothen?‘askedSam.

           ‘Yourmother-in-law,’saidMr.Weller;anditwasluckyhedidsayit,orhischeeksmustinevitablyhavecracked,fromtheirmostunnaturaldistension.

           ‘Yourmotherinlaw,Sammy,’saidMr.Weller,‘andthered-nosedman,myboy;andthered-nosedman.Ho!ho!ho!’

           Withthis,Mr.Wellerlaunchedintoconvulsionsoflaughter,whileSamregardedhimwithabroadgringraduallyover–spreadinghiswholecountenance.

           ‘They’vecometohavealittleserioustalkwithyou,Samivel,’saidMr.Weller,wipinghiseyes.‘Don’tletoutnothin’abouttheunnat’ralcreditor,Sammy.’

           ‘Wot,don’ttheyknowwhoitis?’inquiredSam.

           ‘Notabitonit,’repliedhisfather.

           ‘Verearethey?’saidSam,reciprocatingalltheoldgentleman’sgrins.

           ‘Inthesnuggery,’rejoinedMr.Weller.

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