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- Авторы
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- Чарльз Диккенс
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- Дэвид Копперфильд
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- Стр. 276/820
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My
footsteps
seemed
to
tend
so
naturally
to
the
shop
door
,
after
I
had
read
these
words
from
over
the
way
,
that
I
went
across
the
road
and
looked
in
.
There
was
a
pretty
woman
at
the
back
of
the
shop
,
dancing
a
little
child
in
her
arms
,
while
another
little
fellow
clung
to
her
apron
.
I
had
no
difficulty
in
recognizing
either
Minnie
or
Minnie
’
s
children
.
The
glass
door
of
the
parlour
was
not
open
;
but
in
the
workshop
across
the
yard
I
could
faintly
hear
the
old
tune
playing
,
as
if
it
had
never
left
off
.
‘
Is
Mr
.
Omer
at
home
?
’
said
I
,
entering
.
‘
I
should
like
to
see
him
,
for
a
moment
,
if
he
is
.
’
‘
Oh
yes
,
sir
,
he
is
at
home
,
’
said
Minnie
;
‘
the
weather
don
’
t
suit
his
asthma
out
of
doors
.
Joe
,
call
your
grandfather
!
’
The
little
fellow
,
who
was
holding
her
apron
,
gave
such
a
lusty
shout
,
that
the
sound
of
it
made
him
bashful
,
and
he
buried
his
face
in
her
skirts
,
to
her
great
admiration
.
I
heard
a
heavy
puffing
and
blowing
coming
towards
us
,
and
soon
Mr
.
Omer
,
shorter
-
winded
than
of
yore
,
but
not
much
older
-
looking
,
stood
before
me
.
‘
Servant
,
sir
,
’
said
Mr
.
Omer
.
‘
What
can
I
do
for
you
,
sir
?
’
‘
You
can
shake
hands
with
me
,
Mr
.
Omer
,
if
you
please
,
’
said
I
,
putting
out
my
own
.
‘
You
were
very
good
-
natured
to
me
once
,
when
I
am
afraid
I
didn
’
t
show
that
I
thought
so
.
’
‘
Was
I
though
?
’
returned
the
old
man
.
‘
I
’
m
glad
to
hear
it
,
but
I
don
’
t
remember
when
.
Are
you
sure
it
was
me
?
’
‘
Quite
.
’
‘
I
think
my
memory
has
got
as
short
as
my
breath
,
’
said
Mr
.
Omer
,
looking
at
me
and
shaking
his
head
;
‘
for
I
don
’
t
remember
you
.
’
