The Battle of Life / Битва жизни. Книга для чтения на английском языке

�What does the thimble say, Newcome?’

How Clemency, before replying to this question, held one pocket open, and looked down into its yawning depths for the thimble which wasn’t there, – and how she then held an opposite pocket open, and seeming to descry it, like a pearl of great price, at the bottom, cleared away such intervening obstacles as a handkerchief, an end of wax candle, a flushed apple, an orange, a lucky penny, a cramp bone, a padlock, a pair of scissors in a sheath more expressively describable as promising young shears, a handful or so of loose beads, several balls of cotton, a needle case, a cabinet collection of curl-papers, and a biscuit, all of which articles she entrusted individually and separately to Britain to hold, – is of no consequence.

Nor how, in her determination to grasp this pocket by the throat and keep it prisoner (for it had a tendency to swing, and twist itself round the nearest corner), she assumed and calmly maintained, an attitude apparently inconsistent with the human anatomy and the laws of gravity.

It is enough that at last she triumphantly produced the thimble on her finger, and rattled the nutmeg grater: the literature of both those trinkets being obviously in course of wearing out and wasting away, through excessive friction.

�That’s the thimble, is it, young woman?’ said Mr. Snitchey, diverting himself at her expense. �And what does the thimble say?’

�It says,’ replied Clemency, reading slowly round as if it were a tower, �For-get and For-give.

’

Snitchey and Craggs laughed heartily. �So new!’ said Snitchey. �So easy!’ said Craggs. �Such a knowledge of human nature in it!’ said Snitchey. �So applicable to the affairs of life!’ said Craggs.

�And the nutmeg grater?’ inquired the head of the Firm.

�The grater says,’ returned Clemency, �Do as you – would – be – done by.

[12 - Do as you – would – be – done by. – (уст.) Поступай с другими так, как ты хочешь, чтобы поступали с тобой.]’

�Do, or you’ll be done brown, you mean,’ said Mr. Snitchey.

�I don’t understand,’ retorted Clemency, shaking her head vaguely. �I an’t no lawyer.’

�I am afraid that if she was, Doctor,’ said Mr.