Холодный дом

Jarndyce and Jarndyce

           Charleyverifiedtheadageaboutlittlepitchers,Iamsure,forsheheardofmoresayingsanddoingsinadaythanwouldhavecometomyearsinamonth.WeweretostayamonthatMr.Boythorn’s.Mypethadscarcelybeenthereabrightweek,asIrecollectthetime,whenoneeveningafterwehadfinishedhelpingthegardenerinwateringhisflowers,andjustasthecandleswerelighted,Charley,appearingwithaveryimportantairbehindAda’schair,beckonedmemysteriouslyoutoftheroom."Oh!Ifyouplease,miss,"saidCharleyinawhisper,withhereyesattheirroundestandlargest."You’rewantedattheDedlockArms.""Why,Charley,"saidI,"whocanpossiblywantmeatthepublic-house?""Idon’tknow,miss,"returnedCharley,puttingherheadforwardandfoldingherhandstightuponthebandofherlittleapron,whichshealwaysdidintheenjoymentofanythingmysteriousorconfidential,"butit’sagentleman,miss,andhiscompliments,andwillyoupleasetocomewithoutsayinganythingaboutit.""Whosecompliments,Charley?""His’n,miss,"returnedCharley,whosegrammaticaleducationwasadvancing,butnotveryrapidly."Andhowdoyoucometobethemessenger,Charley?""Iamnotthemessenger,ifyouplease,miss,"returnedmylittlemaid."ItwasW.Grubble,miss.""AndwhoisW.Grubble,Charley?""MisterGrubble,miss,"returnedCharley."Don’tyouknow,miss?TheDedlockArms,byW.Grubble,"whichCharleydeliveredasifshewereslowlyspellingoutthesign."Aye?Thelandlord,Charley?""Yes,miss.

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