The Cricket on the Hearth | Page 7

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 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 eighteenpence. 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-old! Takes notice, in a way quite wonderful!
May seem impossible to you, but feels his legs al-ready!'
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