The Cricket on the Hearth | Page 9

at Tilly, as far as that goes. Or certainly at Boxer."
"Busy just now, Caleb?" asked the Carrier.
"Why, pretty well, John," he returned, with the distraught air of a man who was casting about for the Philosopher's stone, at least. "Pretty much so. There's rather a run on Noah's Arks at present. I could have wished to improve on the Family, but I don't see how it's to be done at the price. It would be a satisfaction to one's mind to make it clearer which was Shems and Hams, and which was Wives. Flies an't on that scale, neither, as compared with elephants, you know! Ah, well! Have you got anything in the parcel line for me, John?"
The Carrier put his hand into a pocket of the coat he had taken off; and brought out, carefully preserved in moss and paper, a tiny flower-pot.
"There it is!" he said, adjusting it with great care. "Not so much as a leaf damaged. Full of buds!"
Caleb's dull eye brightened as he took it, and thanked him.
"Dear, Caleb," said the Carrier. "Very dear at this season."
"Never mind that. It would be cheap to me, what ever it cost," returned the little man. "Anything else, John?"
"A small box," replied the Carrier. "Here you are!"
"'For Caleb Plummer,'" said the little man, spelling out the direction. "'With Cash.' With Cash, John? I don't think it's for me."
"With Care," returned the Carrier, looking over his shoulder. "Where do you make out cash?"
"Oh! To be sure!" said Caleb. "It's all right. With care! Yes, yes; that's mine. It might have been with cash, indeed, if my dear Boy in the Golden South Americas had lived, John. You loved him like a son; didn't you? You needn't say you did. I know, of course. 'Caleb Plummer. With care.' Yes, yes, it's all right. It's a box of dolls' eyes for my daughters' work. I wish it was her own sight in a box, John."
"I wish it was, or could be!" cried the Carrier.
"Thankee," said the little man. "You speak very hearty. To think that she should never see the Dolls--and them a staring at her, so bold, all day long! That's where it cuts. What's the damage, John?"
"I'll damage you," said John, "if you inquire. Dot! Very near?"
"Well! it's like you to say so," observed the little man. "It's your kind way. Let me see. I think that's all."
"I think not," said the Carrier. "Try again."
"Something for our Governor, eh?" said Caleb after pondering a little while. "To be sure. That's what I came for; but my head's so running on them Arks and things! He hasn't been here, has he?"
"Not he," returned the Carrier. "He's too busy, courting."
"He's coming round, though," said Caleb; "for he told me to keep on the near side of the road going home, and it was ten to one he'd take me up. I had better go, by-the-bye.--You couldn't have the goodness to let me pinch Boxer's tail, mum, for half a moment, could you?"
"Why, Caleb, what a question!"
"Oh, never mind, mum!" said the little man. "He mightn't like it, perhaps. There's a small order just come in for barking dogs; and I should wish to go as close to Natur' as I could for sixpence. That's all. Never mind, mum."
It happened opportunely that Boxer, without receiving the proposed stimulus, began to bark with great zeal. But, as this implied the approach of some new visitor, Caleb, postponing his study from the life to a more convenient season, shouldered the round box, and took a hurried leave. He might have spared himself the trouble, for he met the visitor upon the threshold.
"Oh! You are here, are you? Wait a bit. I'll take you home. John Peerybingle, my service to you. More of my service to your pretty wife. Handsomer every day! Better too, if possible! And younger," mused the speaker in a low voice, "that's the devil of it!"
"I should be astonished at your paying compliments, Mr. Tackleton," said Dot, not with the best grace in the world, "but for your condition."
"You know all about it, then?"
"I have got myself to believe it somehow," said Dot.
"After a hard struggle, I suppose?"
"Very."
Tackleton the Toy merchant, pretty generally known as Gruff and Tackleton--for that was the firm, though Gruff had been bought out long ago; only leaving his name, and, as some said, his nature, according to its Dictionary meaning, in the business--Tackleton the Toy merchant was a man whose vocation had been quite misunderstood by his Parents and Guardians. If they had made him a Money Lender, or a sharp Attorney, or a Sheriff's Officer, or a Broker, he might have sown his discontented oats in his youth, and, after having had the full run of himself in ill-natured transactions, might have turned out amiable,