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- Чарльз Диккенс
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- Дэвид Копперфильд
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- Стр. 597/820
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‘
Please
let
me
hold
the
pens
,
’
said
Dora
.
‘
I
want
to
have
something
to
do
with
all
those
many
hours
when
you
are
so
industrious
.
May
I
hold
the
pens
?
’
The
remembrance
of
her
pretty
joy
when
I
said
yes
,
brings
tears
into
my
eyes
.
The
next
time
I
sat
down
to
write
,
and
regularly
afterwards
,
she
sat
in
her
old
place
,
with
a
spare
bundle
of
pens
at
her
side
.
Her
triumph
in
this
connexion
with
my
work
,
and
her
delight
when
I
wanted
a
new
pen
—
which
I
very
often
feigned
to
do
-
suggested
to
me
a
new
way
of
pleasing
my
child
-
wife
.
I
occasionally
made
a
pretence
of
wanting
a
page
or
two
of
manuscript
copied
.
Then
Dora
was
in
her
glory
.
The
preparations
she
made
for
this
great
work
,
the
aprons
she
put
on
,
the
bibs
she
borrowed
from
the
kitchen
to
keep
off
the
ink
,
the
time
she
took
,
the
innumerable
stoppages
she
made
to
have
a
laugh
with
Jip
as
if
he
understood
it
all
,
her
conviction
that
her
work
was
incomplete
unless
she
signed
her
name
at
the
end
,
and
the
way
in
which
she
would
bring
it
to
me
,
like
a
school
-
copy
,
and
then
,
when
I
praised
it
,
clasp
me
round
the
neck
,
are
touching
recollections
to
me
,
simple
as
they
might
appear
to
other
men
.
She
took
possession
of
the
keys
soon
after
this
,
and
went
jingling
about
the
house
with
the
whole
bunch
in
a
little
basket
,
tied
to
her
slender
waist
.
I
seldom
found
that
the
places
to
which
they
belonged
were
locked
,
or
that
they
were
of
any
use
except
as
a
plaything
for
Jip
—
but
Dora
was
pleased
,
and
that
pleased
me
.
She
was
quite
satisfied
that
a
good
deal
was
effected
by
this
make
-
belief
of
housekeeping
;
and
was
as
merry
as
if
we
had
been
keeping
a
baby
-
house
,
for
a
joke
.
So
we
went
on
.
Dora
was
hardly
less
affectionate
to
my
aunt
than
to
me
,
and
often
told
her
of
the
time
when
she
was
afraid
she
was
‘
a
cross
old
thing
’
.
I
never
saw
my
aunt
unbend
more
systematically
to
anyone
She
courted
Jip
,
though
Jip
never
responded
;
listened
,
day
after
day
,
to
the
guitar
,
though
I
am
afraid
she
had
no
taste
for
music
;
never
attacked
the
Incapables
,
though
the
temptation
must
have
been
severe
;
went
wonderful
distances
on
foot
to
purchase
,
as
surprises
,
any
trifles
that
she
found
out
Dora
wanted
;
and
never
came
in
by
the
garden
,
and
missed
her
from
the
room
,
but
she
would
call
out
,
at
the
foot
of
the
stairs
,
in
a
voice
that
sounded
cheerfully
all
over
the
house
:
‘
Where
’
s
Little
Blossom
?
’
It
was
some
time
now
,
since
I
had
left
the
Doctor
.
Living
in
his
neighbourhood
,
I
saw
him
frequently
;
and
we
all
went
to
his
house
on
two
or
three
occasions
to
dinner
or
tea
.
The
Old
Soldier
was
in
permanent
quarters
under
the
Doctor
’
s
roof
.
She
was
exactly
the
same
as
ever
,
and
the
same
immortal
butterflies
hovered
over
her
cap
.
Like
some
other
mothers
,
whom
I
have
known
in
the
course
of
my
life
,
Mrs
.
Markleham
was
far
more
fond
of
pleasure
than
her
daughter
was
.
She
required
a
great
deal
of
amusement
,
and
,
like
a
deep
old
soldier
,
pretended
,
in
consulting
her
own
inclinations
,
to
be
devoting
herself
to
her
child
.
The
Doctor
’
s
desire
that
Annie
should
be
entertained
,
was
therefore
particularly
acceptable
to
this
excellent
parent
;
who
expressed
unqualified
approval
of
his
discretion
.
I
have
no
doubt
,
indeed
,
that
she
probed
the
Doctor
’
s
wound
without
knowing
it
.
Meaning
nothing
but
a
certain
matured
frivolity
and
selfishness
,
not
always
inseparable
from
full
-
blown
years
,
I
think
she
confirmed
him
in
his
fear
that
he
was
a
constraint
upon
his
young
wife
,
and
that
there
was
no
congeniality
of
feeling
between
them
,
by
so
strongly
commending
his
design
of
lightening
the
load
of
her
life
.
