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176 THE CRICKET ON THE HEARTH. |
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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 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 |
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