Дэвид Копперфильд

I Am a New Boy in More Senses than One

           

           Agneswasinthedrawing-room,waitingforherfather,whowasdetainedbysomeoneinhisoffice.Shemetmewithherpleasantsmile,andaskedmehowIlikedtheschool.ItoldherIshouldlikeitverymuch,Ihoped;butIwasalittlestrangetoitatfirst.

           ‘Youhaveneverbeentoschool,’Isaid,‘haveyou?’‘Ohyes!Everyday.’

           ‘Ah,butyoumeanhere,atyourownhome?’

           ‘Papacouldn’tsparemetogoanywhereelse,’sheanswered,smilingandshakingherhead.‘Hishousekeepermustbeinhishouse,youknow.’

           ‘Heisveryfondofyou,Iamsure,’Isaid.

           Shenodded‘Yes,’andwenttothedoortolistenforhiscomingup,thatshemightmeethimonthestairs.But,ashewasnotthere,shecamebackagain.

           ‘MamahasbeendeadeversinceIwasborn,’shesaid,inherquietway.‘Ionlyknowherpicture,downstairs.Isawyoulookingatityesterday.Didyouthinkwhoseitwas?’

           Itoldheryes,becauseitwassolikeherself.

           ‘Papasaysso,too,’saidAgnes,pleased.‘Hark!That’spapanow!’

           Herbrightcalmfacelightedupwithpleasureasshewenttomeethim,andastheycamein,handinhand.Hegreetedmecordially;andtoldmeIshouldcertainlybehappyunderDoctorStrong,whowasoneofthegentlestofmen.

           ‘Theremaybesome,perhapsIdon’tknowthattherearewhoabusehiskindness,’saidMr.

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