Дэвид Копперфильд

My Aunt Makes up Her Mind About Me

           ‘Letmeseeyourideadonkeyovermygreenagain,andassureasyouhaveaheaduponyourshoulders,I’llknockyourbonnetoff,andtreaduponit!’

           Itwouldrequireapainter,andnocommonpaintertoo,todepictmyaunt’sfaceasshedeliveredherselfofthisveryunexpectedsentiment,andMissMurdstone’sfaceassheheardit.Butthemannerofthespeech,nolessthanthematter,wassofiery,thatMissMurdstone,withoutawordinanswer,discreetlyputherarmthroughherbrother’s,andwalkedhaughtilyoutofthecottage;myauntremaininginthewindowlookingafterthem;prepared,Ihavenodoubt,incaseofthedonkey’sreappearance,tocarryherthreatintoinstantexecution.

           Noattemptatdefiancebeingmade,however,herfacegraduallyrelaxed,andbecamesopleasant,thatIwasemboldenedtokissandthankher;whichIdidwithgreatheartiness,andwithbothmyarmsclaspedroundherneck.IthenshookhandswithMr.Dick,whoshookhandswithmeagreatmanytimes,andhailedthishappycloseoftheproceedingswithrepeatedburstsoflaughter.

           ‘You’llconsideryourselfguardian,jointlywithme,ofthischild,Mr.Dick,’saidmyaunt.

           ‘Ishallbedelighted,’saidMr.Dick,‘tobetheguardianofDavid’sson.’

           ‘Verygood,’returnedmyaunt,‘that’ssettled.Ihavebeenthinking,doyouknow,Mr.Dick,thatImightcallhimTrotwood?’

           ‘Certainly,certainly.CallhimTrotwood,certainly,’saidMr.

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