Посмертные записки Пиквикского клуба

A Field Day and Bivouac — More new Friends — An Invitation to the Country

           

           ‘Roomforyouall,gentlemen,’saidthestoutman.‘Twoinside,andoneout.Joe,makeroomforoneofthesegentlemenonthebox.Now,Sir,comealong;’andthestoutgentlemanextendedhisarm,andpulledfirstMr.Pickwick,andthenMr.Snodgrass,intothebarouchebymainforce.Mr.Winklemountedtothebox,thefatboywaddledtothesameperch,andfellfastasleepinstantly.

           ‘Well,gentlemen,’saidthestoutman,‘verygladtoseeyou.Knowyouverywell,gentlemen,thoughyoumayn’trememberme.Ispentsomeev’nin’satyourclublastwinterpickedupmyfriendMr.Tupmanherethismorning,andverygladIwastoseehim.Well,Sir,andhowareyou?Youdolookuncommonwell,tobesure.’

           Mr.Pickwickacknowledgedthecompliment,andcordiallyshookhandswiththestoutgentlemaninthetop-boots.

           ‘Well,andhowareyou,sir?’saidthestoutgentleman,addressingMr.Snodgrasswithpaternalanxiety.‘Charming,eh?Well,that’srightthat’sright.Andhowareyou,sir(toMr.Winkle)?Well,Iamgladtohearyousayyouarewell;verygladIam,tobesure.Mydaughters,gentlemenmygalstheseare;andthat’smysister,MissRachaelWardle.She’saMiss,sheis;andyetsheain’taMisseh,Sir,eh?’AndthestoutgentlemanplayfullyinsertedhiselbowbetweentheribsofMr.Pickwick,andlaughedveryheartily.

           ‘Lor,brother!’saidMissWardle,withadeprecatingsmile.

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