Charles Dickens Read Free Page B

nearly thinking of her,
perhaps, as she was in that same school time. He looked upon her
with a thoughtful pleasure, but he made no answer.
    'And he's as old! As unlike her!—Why, how many years older than
you, is Gruff and Tackleton, John?'
    'How many more cups of tea shall I drink to-night at one sitting,
than Gruff and Tackleton ever took in four, I wonder!' replied
John, good-humouredly, as he drew a chair to the round table, and
began at the cold ham. 'As to eating, I eat but little; but that
little I enjoy, Dot.'
    Even this, his usual sentiment at meal times, one of his innocent
delusions (for his appetite was always obstinate, and flatly
contradicted him), awoke no smile in the face of his little wife,
who stood among the parcels, pushing the cake-box slowly from her
with her foot, and never once looked, though her eyes were cast
down too, upon the dainty shoe she generally was so mindful of.
Absorbed in thought, she stood there, heedless alike of the tea and
John (although he called to her, and rapped the table with his
knife to startle her), until he rose and touched her on the arm;
when she looked at him for a moment, and hurried to her place
behind the teaboard, laughing at her negligence. But, not as she
had laughed before. The manner and the music were quite changed.
    The Cricket, too, had stopped. Somehow the room was not so
cheerful as it had been. Nothing like it.
    'So, these are all the parcels, are they, John?' she said, breaking
a long silence, which the honest Carrier had devoted to the
practical illustration of one part of his favourite sentiment—
certainly enjoying what he ate, if it couldn't be admitted that he
ate but little. 'So, these are all the parcels; are they, John?'
    'That's all,' said John. 'Why—no—I—' laying down his knife and
fork, and taking a long breath. 'I declare—I've clean forgotten
the old gentleman!'
    'The old gentleman?'
    'In the cart,' said John. 'He was asleep, among the straw, the
last time I saw him. I've very nearly remembered him, twice, since
I came in; but he went out of my head again. Holloa! Yahip there!
Rouse up! That's my hearty!'
    John said these latter words outside the door, whither he had
hurried with the candle in his hand.
    Miss Slowboy, conscious of some mysterious reference to The Old
Gentleman, and connecting in her mystified imagination certain
associations of a religious nature with the phrase, was so
disturbed, that hastily rising from the low chair by the fire to
seek protection near the skirts of her mistress, and coming into
contact as she crossed the doorway with an ancient Stranger, she
instinctively made a charge or butt at him with the only offensive
instrument within her reach. This instrument happening to be the
baby, great commotion and alarm ensued, which the sagacity of Boxer
rather tended to increase; for, that good dog, more thoughtful than
its master, had, it seemed, been watching the old gentleman in his
sleep, lest he should walk off with a few young poplar trees that
were tied up behind the cart; and he still attended on him very
closely, worrying his gaiters in fact, and making dead sets at the
buttons.
    'You're such an undeniable good sleeper, sir,' said John, when
tranquillity was restored; in the mean time the old gentleman had
stood, bareheaded and motionless, in the centre of the room; 'that
I have half a mind to ask you where the other six are—only that
would be a joke, and I know I should spoil it. Very near though,'
murmured the Carrier, with a chuckle; 'very near!'
    The Stranger, who had long white hair, good features, singularly
bold and well defined for an old man, and dark, bright, penetrating
eyes, looked round with a smile, and saluted the Carrier's wife by
gravely inclining his head.
    His garb was very quaint and odd—a long, long way behind the time.
Its hue was brown, all over. In his hand he held a great brown
club or walking-stick; and striking this upon the floor, it fell
asunder, and became a chair. On