Дэвид Копперфильд

I Am Born

           ’

           ‘Ba—a—ah!’saidmyaunt,withaperfectshakeonthecontemptuousinterjection.Andcorkedherselfasbefore.

           Really—really—asMr.Chilliptoldmymother,hewasalmostshocked;speakinginaprofessionalpointofviewalone,hewasalmostshocked.Buthesatandlookedather,notwithstanding,fornearlytwohours,asshesatlookingatthefire,untilhewasagaincalledout.Afteranotherabsence,heagainreturned.

           ‘Well?’saidmyaunt,takingoutthecottononthatsideagain.

           ‘Well,ma’am,’returnedMr.Chillip,‘weare—weareprogressingslowly,ma’am.’

           ‘Ya—a—ah!’saidmyaunt.Withsuchasnarlathim,thatMr.Chillipabsolutelycouldnotbearit.Itwasreallycalculatedtobreakhisspirit,hesaidafterwards.Hepreferredtogoandsituponthestairs,inthedarkandastrongdraught,untilhewasagainsentfor.

           HamPeggotty,whowenttothenationalschool,andwasaverydragonathiscatechism,andwhomaythereforeberegardedasacrediblewitness,reportednextday,thathappeningtopeepinattheparlour-dooranhourafterthis,hewasinstantlydescriedbyMissBetsey,thenwalkingtoandfroinastateofagitation,andpounceduponbeforehecouldmakehisescape.

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