Дэвид Копперфильд

I Assist at an Explosion

           Dick,hadbeenamereformfromthefirst;butmyauntwalkedupanddowntheroom,Traddlessatuponthesofaaffectingtoreadthepaperwithhiseyesontheceiling;andIlookedoutofthewindowtogiveearlynoticeofMr.Micawber’scoming.NorhadIlongtowatch,for,atthefirstchimeofthehalfhour,heappearedinthestreet.

           ‘Hereheis,’saidI,‘andnotinhislegalattire!’

           Myaunttiedthestringsofherbonnet(shehadcomedowntobreakfastinit),andputonhershawl,asifshewerereadyforanythingthatwasresoluteanduncompromising.Traddlesbuttonedhiscoatwithadeterminedair.Mr.Dick,disturbedbytheseformidableappearances,butfeelingitnecessarytoimitatethem,pulledhishat,withbothhands,asfirmlyoverhisearsashepossiblycould;andinstantlytookitoffagain,towelcomeMr.Micawber.

           ‘Gentlemen,andmadam,’saidMr.Micawber,‘goodmorning!Mydearsir,’toMr.Dick,whoshookhandswithhimviolently,‘youareextremelygood.’

           ‘Haveyoubreakfasted?’saidMr.Dick.‘Haveachop!’

           ‘Notfortheworld,mygoodsir!’criedMr.Micawber,stoppinghimonhiswaytothebell;‘appetiteandmyself,Mr.Dixon,havelongbeenstrangers.’

           Mr.Dixonwassowellpleasedwithhisnewname,andappearedtothinkitsoobliginginMr.Micawbertoconferituponhim,thatheshookhandswithhimagain,andlaughedratherchildishly.

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