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|The Cricket on the Hearth||Charles Dickens|
III - Chirp the Third
|Page 6 of 22||
The Carrier had expected that Tackleton would pay him an early visit; and he was right. He had not walked to and fro before his own door, many minutes, when he saw the Toy-merchant coming in his chaise along the road. As the chaise drew nearer, he perceived that Tackleton was dressed out sprucely for his marriage, and that he had decorated his horse's head with flowers and favours.
The horse looked much more like a bridegroom than Tackleton, whose half-closed eye was more disagreeably expressive than ever. But the Carrier took little heed of this. His thoughts had other occupation.
'John Peerybingle!' said Tackleton, with an air of condolence. 'My good fellow, how do you find yourself this morning?'
'I have had but a poor night, Master Tackleton,' returned the Carrier, shaking his head: 'for I have been a good deal disturbed in my mind. But it's over now! Can you spare me half an hour or so, for some private talk?'
'I came on purpose,' returned Tackleton, alighting. 'Never mind the horse. He'll stand quiet enough, with the reins over this post, if you'll give him a mouthful of hay.'
The Carrier having brought it from his stable, and set it before him, they turned into the house.
'You are not married before noon,' he said, 'I think?'
'No,' answered Tackleton. 'Plenty of time. Plenty of time.'
When they entered the kitchen, Tilly Slowboy was rapping at the Stranger's door; which was only removed from it by a few steps. One of her very red eyes (for Tilly had been crying all night long, because her mistress cried) was at the keyhole; and she was knocking very loud; and seemed frightened.
'If you please I can't make nobody hear,' said Tilly, looking round. 'I hope nobody an't gone and been and died if you please!'
This philanthropic wish, Miss Slowboy emphasised with various new raps and kicks at the door; which led to no result whatever.
'Shall I go?' said Tackleton. 'It's curious.'
The Carrier, who had turned his face from the door, signed to him to go if he would.
So Tackleton went to Tilly Slowboy's relief; and he too kicked and knocked; and he too failed to get the least reply. But he thought of trying the handle of the door; and as it opened easily, he peeped in, looked in, went in, and soon came running out again.
'John Peerybingle,' said Tackleton, in his ear. 'I hope there has been nothing - nothing rash in the night?'
The Carrier turned upon him quickly.
'Because he's gone!' said Tackleton; 'and the window's open. I don't see any marks - to be sure it's almost on a level with the garden: but I was afraid there might have been some - some scuffle. Eh?'
He nearly shut up the expressive eye altogether; he looked at him so hard. And he gave his eye, and his face, and his whole person, a sharp twist. As if he would have screwed the truth out of him.
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|The Cricket on the Hearth
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