PROXY  WHOIS  RQUOTE  TEXTS  SOFT  FOREX  BBOARD
 Radio  Music  Philosophy  Code  Literature  Russian

= ROOT|Literature|english|1800-1899|dickens-cricket-127.txt =

page 4 of 45



her mouth and eyes wide open, and her head thrust
forward, taking it in as if it were air. Nor was it
less agreeable to observe how John the Carrier, refer-
ence being made by Dot to the aforesaid baby, checked
his hand when on the point of touching the infant,
as if he thought he might crack it; and bending down,
surveyed it from a safe distance, with a kind of
puzzled pride, such as an amiable mastiff might be
supposed to show, if he found himself, one day, the
father of a young canary.

  'An't he beautiful, John? Don't he look precious
in his sleep?'

  'Very precious,' said John. 'Very much so. He
generally is asleep, an't he?'

  'Lor, John! Good gracious no!'

  'Oh,' said John, pondering. 'I thought his eyes was
generally shut. Halloa!'

  'Goodness, John, how you startle one!'

  'It an't right for him to turn 'em up in that way!'
said the astonished Carrier, 'is it? See how he's wink-
ing with both of 'em at once! And look at his mouth!
Why he's gasping like a gold and silver fish!'

  'You don't deserve to be a father, you don't,' said
Dot, with all the dignity of an experienced matron.
'But how should you know what little complaints
children are troubled with, John! You wouldn't so
much as know their names, you stupid fellow.' And
when she had turned the baby over on her left arm,
and had slapped its back as a restorative, she pinched
her husband's ear, laughing.

  'No,' said John, pulling off his outer coat. 'It's
very true, Dot. I don't know much about it. I only
know that I've been fighting pretty stiffly with the
wind to-night. It's been blowing north-east, straight
into the cart, the whole way home.'

  'Poor old man, so it has!' cried Mrs. Peerybingle,
instantly becoming very active. 'Here! Take the
precious darling, Tilly, while I make myself of some
use. Bless it, I could smother it with kissing it, I
could! Hie then, good dog! Hie Boxer, boy! Only
let me make the tea first, John; and then I'll help
you with the parcels, like a busy bee. "How doth
the little" -- and all the rest of it, you know, John.
Did you ever learn "how doth the little," when you
went to school, John?'

  'Not to quite know it,' John returned. 'I was very
near it once. But I should only have spoilt it, I
dare say.'

  'Ha ha,' laughed Dot. She had the blithest little
laugh you ever heard. 'What a dear old darling of
a dunce you are, John, to be sure!'

  Not at all disputing this position, John went out
to see that the boy with the lantern, which had been
dancing to and fro before the door and window,
like a Will of the Wisp, took due care of the horse;
who was fatter than you would quite believe, if I
gave you his measure, and so old that his birthday
was lost in the mists of antiquity. Boxer, feeling
that his attentions were due to the family in general,
and must be impartially distributed, dashed in and
out with bewildering inconstancy; now, describing a
circle of short barks round the horse, where he was
being rubbed down at the stable-door; now, feigning
to make savage rushes at his mistress, and facetiously
bringing himself to sudden stops; now, eliciting a
shriek from Tilly Slowboy, in the low nursing-chair
near the fire, by the unexpected application of his
moist nose to her countenance; now, exhibiting an
obtrusive interest in the baby; now, going round and
round upon the hearth, and lying down as if he had
established himself for the night; now, getting up
again, and. taking that nothing of a fag-end of a
tail of his, out into the weather, as if he had just
remembered an appointment, and was off, at a round
trot, to keep it.

  'There! There's the teapot, ready on the hob!' said
Dot; as briskly busy as a child at play at keeping
house. 'And there's the cold knuckle of ham; and
there's the butter; and there's the crusty loaf, and
all! Here's the clothes-basket for the small parcels,
John, if you've got any there -- where are you, John?
Don't let the dear child fall under the grate, Tilly,
whatever you do!'

  It may be noted of Miss Slowboy, in spite of her
rejecting the caution with some vivacity, that she had
a rare and surprising talent for getting this baby
=4=

1|2|3| < PREV = PAGE 4 = NEXT > |5|6|7|8|9|10|11|12|13.45

UP TO ROOT | UP TO DIR | TO FIRST PAGE

Google
 


E-mail Facebook VKontakte Google Digg del.icio.us BlinkList NewsVine Reddit YahooMyWeb LiveJournal Blogmarks TwitThis Live News2.ru BobrDobr.ru Memori.ru MoeMesto.ru

0.011687 wallclock secs ( 0.01 usr + 0.00 sys = 0.01 CPU)