The Cricket on the Hearth | Page 8

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 round 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 sack-cloth 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 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 upon 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, whatever 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 daughter's work. I wish it was her own sight in a box, John.'
'I wish it was, or could be!' cried the Carrier.
'Thank'ee,' 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