Читать книгу Большие надежды. Уровень 2 / Great Expectations - Чарльз Диккенс, Geoffrey Palmer, Miriam Margolyes - Страница 5

I expected to find a Constable in the kitchen. I was ready to go to the prison. But Mrs. Joe was prodigiously busy in the house. She was preparing for the festivities of the day.

We were going to have a superb dinner of a leg of pickled pork and greens, and a pair of roast stuffed fowls. A handsome mince-pie was made yesterday morning. The pudding was already on the boil.

We were waiting for Mr. Wopsle, the clerk at church, and Mr. Hubble[13] the wheelwright and Mrs. Hubble; and Uncle Pumblechook (Joe’s uncle), who was a cornchandler in the nearest town, and drove his own chaise-cart. The dinner hour was half-past one. Everything was most splendid. I heard not a word of the robbery.

The time came, and the company arrived. I opened the door to the company. I opened it first to Mr. Wopsle, next to Mr. and Mrs. Hubble, and last of all to Uncle Pumblechook.

“Mrs. Joe,” said Uncle Pumblechook, a large middle-aged slow man, with dull staring eyes, and sandy hair, “Mum, I have a bottle of sherry wine, and I have a bottle of port wine, too.”

Every Christmas Day he presented himself with exactly the same words.

We dined on these occasions in the kitchen. My sister was uncommonly lively on the present occasion. Indeed she was generally more gracious in the society of Mrs. Hubble than in other company.

Soon we sat down to dinner. Mr. Wopsle said a prayer: we must be truly grateful. My sister said, in a low reproachful voice,

“Do you hear that? Be grateful.”

“Especially,” said Mr. Pumblechook, “be grateful, boy, to them which brought you up[14].”

Mrs. Hubble shook her head and asked,

“Why are the young boys never grateful?”

Mr. Hubble answered,

“They are just vicious.”

Everybody then murmured “True!” and looked at me in a particularly unpleasant and personal manner.

“Listen to this!” said my sister to me, in a severe parenthesis.

“You must taste,” said my sister, addressing the guests with her best grace, “you must taste such a delightful and delicious present of Uncle Pumblechook’s! You must know, it’s a pie; a savory pork pie.”

My sister went out to get it. I heard her steps. She went to the pantry. Mr. Pumblechook balanced his knife. I wanted to run away. I stood up. But I ran no farther than the house door. There stood a party of soldiers with their muskets.