Dickens's Christmas Books - complete online versions

The Christmas Carol, The Chimes, Cricket On the Hearth, Battle Of Life
& The Haunted Man & the Ghosts's Bargain with Illustrations.

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THE BATTLE OF LIFE.                                  301
At a second glance, and on a more minute examination of his face, you might have known that it was no other than Benjamin Britain liimself who stood in the doorway—reasonably changed by time, but for the better; a very comfortable host indeed.
" Mrs. B.," said Mr. Britain, looking down the road, " is rather late. It's tea-time."
As there was no Mrs. Britain coming, he strolled leisurely out into the road and looked up at the house, very much to his satisfac­tion. " It's just the sort of house," said Benjamin, " I should wish to stop at, if I didn't keep it."
Then he strolled towards the garden paling, and took a look at the dahlias. They looked over at him, with a helpless, drowsy hanging of their heads: which bobbed again, as the heavy drops of wet dripped off them.
"You must be looked after," said Benjamin. "Memorandum, not to forget to tell her so. She's a long time coming !"
Mr. Britain's better half seemed to be by so very much his better half, that his own moiety of liimself was utterly cast away and helpless without her.
" She hadn't much to do, I think," said Ben. " There were a few little matters of business after market, but not many. Oh ! here we are at last!"
A chaise-cart, driven by a boy, came clattering along the road: and seated in it, in a chair, with a large well-saturated umbrella spread out to dry behind her, was the plump figure of a matronly woman, with her bare arms folded across a basket which she carried on her knee, several other baskets and parcels lying crowded around her, and a certain bright good-nature in her face and contented awkwardness in her manner, as she jogged to and fro with the motion of her carriage, which smacked of old times, even in the distance. Upon her nearer approach, this relish of bygone days was not diminished; and when the cart stopped at The Nutmeg Grater door, a pair of shoes, alighting from it, slipped nimbly through Mr. Britain's open arms, and came down with a substantial weight upon the pathway, which shoes could hardly have belonged to any one but Clemency Newcome.
In fact they did belong to her, and she stood in them, and a rosy comfortable-looking soul she was : with as much soap on her glossy face as in times of yore, but with whole elbows now, that had grown quite dimpled in her improved condition.
"You're late, Clemmy !" said Mr. Britain.
" Why, you see, Ben, I've had a deal to do !" she replied, looking busily after the safe removal into the house of all the packages and baskets; " eight, nine, ten,—where's eleven ? Oh !
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