The Cricket on the Hearth | Page 8

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 his 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 undeniably good sleeper, sir," said John, when tranquillity was restored (in the meantime 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 which he sat down quite composedly.
"There!" said the Carrier, turning to his wife. "That's the way I found him, sitting by the roadside! Upright as a milestone. And almost as deaf."
"Sitting in the open air, John?"
"In the open air," replied the Carrier, "just at dusk. 'Carriage Paid,' he said; and gave me eighteen-pence. Then he got in. And there he is."
"He's going, John, I think!"
Not at all. He was only going to speak.
"If you please, I was to be left till called for," said the Stranger mildly. "Don't mind me."
With that he took a pair of spectacles from one of his large pockets, and a book from another, and leisurely began to read. Making no more of Boxer than if he had been a house lamb!
The Carrier and his wife exchanged a look of perplexity. The Stranger raised his head; and, glancing from the latter to the former, said:
"Your daughter, my good friend?"
"Wife," returned John.
"Niece?" said the Stranger.
"Wife!" roared John.
"Indeed?" observed the Stranger. "Surely? Very young!"
He quietly turned over, and resumed his reading. But, before he could have read two lines, he again interrupted himself to say:
"Baby yours?"
John gave him a gigantic nod: equivalent to an answer in the affirmative, delivered through a speaking trumpet.
"Girl?"
"Bo-o-oy!" roared John.
"Also very young, eh?"
Mrs. Peerybingle instantly struck in. "Two months and three da-ays. Vaccinated just six weeks ago-o! Took very fine-ly! Considered, by the doctor, a remarkably beautiful chi-ild! Equal to the general run of children at five months o-ld! Takes notice in a way quite wonder-ful! May seem impossible to you, but feels his legs al-ready!"
[Illustration: "That's the way I found him, sitting by the roadside! Upright as a milestone."]
Here, the breathless little mother, who had been shrieking these short sentences into the old man's ear, until her pretty face was crimsoned, held up the Baby before him as a stubborn and triumphant fact; while Tilly Slowboy, with a melodious cry of "Ketcher, Ketcher"--which sounded like some unknown words, adapted to a popular Sneeze--performed some cow-like gambols around that all unconscious Innocent.
"Hark! He's called for, sure enough," said John. "There's somebody at the door. Open it, Tilly."
Before she could reach it, however, it was opened from without; being a primitive sort of door, with a latch that any one could lift if he chose--and a good many people did choose, for all kinds of neighbours liked to have a cheerful word or two with the Carrier, though he was no great talker himself. Being opened, it gave admission to a little, meagre, thoughtful, dingy-faced man, who seemed to have made himself a great-coat from the sackcloth covering of some old box; for, when he turned to shut the door and keep the weather out, he disclosed upon the back of that garment the inscription G & T in large black capitals. Also the word GLASS in bold characters.
"Good evening, John!" said the little man. "Good evening, mum! Good evening, Tilly! Good evening, Unbeknown! How's Baby, mum? Boxer's pretty well I hope?"
"All thriving, Caleb," replied Dot. "I am sure you need only look at the dear child, for one, to know that."
"And I'm sure I need only look at you for another," said Caleb.
He didn't look at her, though; he had a wandering and thoughtful eye, which seemed to be always projecting itself into some other time and place, no matter what he said; a description which will equally apply to his voice.
"Or at John for another," said Caleb. "Or