Посмертные записки Пиквикского клуба

Mr. Solomon Pell, assisted by a Select Committee of Coachmen, arranges the affairs of the elder Mr.

           

           Crossingacourtyardwhichwasallnoiseandbustle,andpassingacoupleofporterswhoseemeddressedtomatchtheredfireenginewhichwaswheeledawayintoacorner,theypassedintoanofficewheretheirbusinesswastobetransacted,andwherePellandMr.Flasherleftthemstandingforafewmoments,whiletheywentupstairsintotheWillOffice.

           ‘Wotplaceisthishere?’whisperedthemottled-facedgentlemantotheelderMr.Weller.

           ‘Counsel’sOffice,’repliedtheexecutorinawhisper.

           ‘Wotarethemgen’l’mena-settin’behindthecounters?’askedthehoarsecoachman.

           ‘Reducedcounsels,Is’pose,’repliedMr.Weller.‘Ain’ttheythereducedcounsels,Samivel?’

           ‘Wy,youdon’tsupposethereducedcounselsisalive,doyou?’inquiredSam,withsomedisdain.

           ‘HowshouldIknow?’retortedMr.Weller;‘Ithoughttheylookedwerylikeit.Wotarethey,then?’

           ‘Clerks,’repliedSam.

           ‘Wotaretheyalla-eatin’hamsangwidgesfor?’inquiredhisfather.

           ‘‘Cosit’sintheirdooty,Isuppose,’repliedSam,‘it’saparto’thesystem;they’realvaysa-doin’ithere,alldaylong!’Mr.

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