Дэвид Копперфильд

I Am Born

           

           ‘Ofcourseitwill,’saidMissBetsey.‘It’snothingbutfancy.Whatdoyoucallyourgirl?’

           ‘Idon’tknowthatitwillbeagirl,yet,ma’am,’saidmymotherinnocently.

           ‘BlesstheBaby!’exclaimedMissBetsey,unconsciouslyquotingthesecondsentimentofthepincushioninthedrawerupstairs,butapplyingittomymotherinsteadofme,‘Idon’tmeanthat.Imeanyourservant-girl.’

           ‘Peggotty,’saidmymother.

           ‘Peggotty!’repeatedMissBetsey,withsomeindignation.‘Doyoumeantosay,child,thatanyhumanbeinghasgoneintoaChristianchurch,andgotherselfnamedPeggotty?’‘It’shersurname,’saidmymother,faintly.‘Mr.Copperfieldcalledherbyit,becauseherChristiannamewasthesameasmine.’

           ‘Here!Peggotty!’criedMissBetsey,openingtheparlourdoor.‘Tea.Yourmistressisalittleunwell.Don’tdawdle.’

           Havingissuedthismandatewithasmuchpotentialityasifshehadbeenarecognizedauthorityinthehouseeversinceithadbeenahouse,andhavinglookedouttoconfronttheamazedPeggottycomingalongthepassagewithacandleatthesoundofastrangevoice,MissBetseyshutthedooragain,andsatdownasbefore:withherfeetonthefender,theskirtofherdresstuckedup,andherhandsfoldedononeknee.

           ‘Youwerespeakingaboutitsbeingagirl,’saidMissBetsey.‘Ihavenodoubtitwillbeagirl.

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