Дэвид Копперфильд

I Am a New Boy in More Senses than One

           

           But,sittingatwork,notfarfromDoctorStrong,wasaveryprettyyoungladywhomhecalledAnnie,andwhowashisdaughter,IsupposedwhogotmeoutofmydifficultybykneelingdowntoputDoctorStrong’sshoeson,andbuttonhisgaiters,whichshedidwithgreatcheerfulnessandquickness.Whenshehadfinished,andweweregoingouttotheschoolroom,IwasmuchsurprisedtohearMr.Wickfield,inbiddinghergoodmorning,addressheras‘Mrs.Strong’;andIwaswonderingcouldshebeDoctorStrong’sson’swife,orcouldshebeMrs.DoctorStrong,whenDoctorStronghimselfunconsciouslyenlightenedme.

           ‘Bytheby,Wickfield,’hesaid,stoppinginapassagewithhishandonmyshoulder;‘youhavenotfoundanysuitableprovisionformywife’scousinyet?’

           ‘No,’saidMr.Wickfield.‘No.Notyet.’

           ‘Icouldwishitdoneassoonasitcanbedone,Wickfield,’saidDoctorStrong,‘forJackMaldonisneedy,andidle;andofthosetwobadthings,worsethingssometimescome.WhatdoesDoctorWattssay,’headded,lookingatme,andmovinghisheadtothetimeofhisquotation,‘“Satanfindssomemischiefstill,foridlehandstodo.”’

           ‘Egad,Doctor,’returnedMr.Wickfield,‘ifDoctorWattsknewmankind,hemighthavewritten,withasmuchtruth,“Satanfindssomemischiefstill,forbusyhandstodo.”Thebusypeopleachievetheirfullshareofmischiefintheworld,youmayrelyuponit.

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