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diff --git a/1413-h/1413-h.htm b/1413-h/1413-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..fb821b7 --- /dev/null +++ b/1413-h/1413-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,1359 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=US-ASCII" /> +<title>Tom Tiddler's Ground</title> + <style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + P { margin-top: .75em; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + H1, H2 { + text-align: center; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + } + H3, H4 { + text-align: left; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; + } + BODY{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } + .blkquot {margin-left: 4em; margin-right: 4em;} /* block indent */ + // --> + /* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> +</head> +<body> +<h2> +<a href="#startoftext">Tom Tiddler's Ground, by Charles Dickens</a> +</h2> +<pre> +The Project Gutenberg eBook, Tom Tiddler's Ground, by Charles Dickens + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: Tom Tiddler's Ground + + +Author: Charles Dickens + +Release Date: April 3, 2005 [eBook #1413] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TOM TIDDLER'S GROUND*** +</pre> +<p><a name="startoftext"></a></p> +<p>Transcribed from the 1894 Chapman and Hall “Christmas Stories” +edition by David Price, email ccx074@coventry.ac.uk</p> +<h1>TOM TIDDLER’S GROUND</h1> +<h2>CHAPTER I—PICKING UP SOOT AND CINDERS</h2> +<p>“And why Tom Tiddler’s ground?” said the Traveller.</p> +<p>“Because he scatters halfpence to Tramps and such-like,” +returned the Landlord, “and of course they pick ’em up. +And this being done on his own land (which it <i>is</i> his own land, +you observe, and were his family’s before him), why it is but +regarding the halfpence as gold and silver, and turning the ownership +of the property a bit round your finger, and there you have the name +of the children’s game complete. And it’s appropriate +too,” said the Landlord, with his favourite action of stooping +a little, to look across the table out of window at vacancy, under the +window-blind which was half drawn down. “Leastwise it has +been so considered by many gentlemen which have partook of chops and +tea in the present humble parlour.”</p> +<p>The Traveller was partaking of chops and tea in the present humble +parlour, and the Landlord’s shot was fired obliquely at him.</p> +<p>“And you call him a Hermit?” said the Traveller.</p> +<p>“They call him such,” returned the Landlord, evading +personal responsibility; “he is in general so considered.”</p> +<p>“What <i>is</i> a Hermit?” asked the Traveller.</p> +<p>“What is it?” repeated the Landlord, drawing his hand +across his chin.</p> +<p>“Yes, what is it?”</p> +<p>The Landlord stooped again, to get a more comprehensive view of vacancy +under the window-blind, and—with an asphyxiated appearance on +him as one unaccustomed to definition—made no answer.</p> +<p>“I’ll tell you what I suppose it to be,” said the +Traveller. “An abominably dirty thing.”</p> +<p>“Mr. Mopes is dirty, it cannot be denied,” said the Landlord.</p> +<p>“Intolerably conceited.”</p> +<p>“Mr. Mopes is vain of the life he leads, some do say,” +replied the Landlord, as another concession.</p> +<p>“A slothful, unsavoury, nasty reversal of the laws of human +mature,” said the Traveller; “and for the sake of GOD’S +working world and its wholesomeness, both moral and physical, I would +put the thing on the treadmill (if I had my way) wherever I found it; +whether on a pillar, or in a hole; whether on Tom Tiddler’s ground, +or the Pope of Rome’s ground, or a Hindoo fakeer’s ground, +or any other ground.”</p> +<p>“I don’t know about putting Mr. Mopes on the treadmill,” +said the Landlord, shaking his head very seriously. “There +ain’t a doubt but what he has got landed property.”</p> +<p>“How far may it be to this said Tom Tiddler’s ground?” +asked the Traveller.</p> +<p>“Put it at five mile,” returned the Landlord.</p> +<p>“Well! When I have done my breakfast,” said the +Traveller, “I’ll go there. I came over here this morning, +to find it out and see it.”</p> +<p>“Many does,” observed the Landlord.</p> +<p>The conversation passed, in the Midsummer weather of no remote year +of grace, down among the pleasant dales and trout-streams of a green +English county. No matter what county. Enough that you may +hunt there, shoot there, fish there, traverse long grass-grown Roman +roads there, open ancient barrows there, see many a square mile of richly +cultivated land there, and hold Arcadian talk with a bold peasantry, +their country’s pride, who will tell you (if you want to know) +how pastoral housekeeping is done on nine shillings a week.</p> +<p>Mr. Traveller sat at his breakfast in the little sanded parlour of +the Peal of Bells village alehouse, with the dew and dust of an early +walk upon his shoes—an early walk by road and meadow and coppice, +that had sprinkled him bountifully with little blades of grass, and +scraps of new hay, and with leaves both young and old, and with other +such fragrant tokens of the freshness and wealth of summer. The +window through which the landlord had concentrated his gaze upon vacancy +was shaded, because the morning sun was hot and bright on the village +street. The village street was like most other village streets: +wide for its height, silent for its size, and drowsy in the dullest +degree. The quietest little dwellings with the largest of window-shutters +(to shut up Nothing as carefully as if it were the Mint, or the Bank +of England) had called in the Doctor’s house so suddenly, that +his brass door-plate and three stories stood among them as conspicuous +and different as the doctor himself in his broadcloth, among the smock-frocks +of his patients. The village residences seemed to have gone to +law with a similar absence of consideration, for a score of weak little +lath-and-plaster cabins clung in confusion about the Attorney’s +red-brick house, which, with glaring door-steps and a most terrific +scraper, seemed to serve all manner of ejectments upon them. They +were as various as labourers—high-shouldered, wry-necked, one-eyed, +goggle-eyed, squinting, bow-legged, knock-knee’d, rheumatic, crazy. +Some of the small tradesmen’s houses, such as the crockery-shop +and the harness-maker, had a Cyclops window in the middle of the gable, +within an inch or two of its apex, suggesting that some forlorn rural +Prentice must wriggle himself into that apartment horizontally, when +he retired to rest, after the manner of the worm. So bountiful +in its abundance was the surrounding country, and so lean and scant +the village, that one might have thought the village had sown and planted +everything it once possessed, to convert the same into crops. +This would account for the bareness of the little shops, the bareness +of the few boards and trestles designed for market purposes in a corner +of the street, the bareness of the obsolete Inn and Inn Yard, with the +ominous inscription “Excise Office” not yet faded out from +the gateway, as indicating the very last thing that poverty could get +rid of. This would also account for the determined abandonment +of the village by one stray dog, fast lessening in the perspective where +the white posts and the pond were, and would explain his conduct on +the hypothesis that he was going (through the act of suicide) to convert +himself into manure, and become a part proprietor in turnips or mangold-wurzel.</p> +<p>Mr. Traveller having finished his breakfast and paid his moderate +score, walked out to the threshold of the Peal of Bells, and, thence +directed by the pointing finger of his host, betook himself towards +the ruined hermitage of Mr. Mopes the hermit.</p> +<p>For, Mr. Mopes, by suffering everything about him to go to ruin, +and by dressing himself in a blanket and skewer, and by steeping himself +in soot and grease and other nastiness, had acquired great renown in +all that country-side—far greater renown than he could ever have +won for himself, if his career had been that of any ordinary Christian, +or decent Hottentot. He had even blanketed and skewered and sooted +and greased himself, into the London papers. And it was curious +to find, as Mr. Traveller found by stopping for a new direction at this +farm-house or at that cottage as he went along, with how much accuracy +the morbid Mopes had counted on the weakness of his neighbours to embellish +him. A mist of home-brewed marvel and romance surrounded Mopes, +in which (as in all fogs) the real proportions of the real object were +extravagantly heightened. He had murdered his beautiful beloved +in a fit of jealousy and was doing penance; he had made a vow under +the influence of grief; he had made a vow under the influence of a fatal +accident; he had made a vow under the influence of religion; he had +made a vow under the influence of drink; he had made a vow under the +influence of disappointment; he had never made any vow, but “had +got led into it” by the possession of a mighty and most awful +secret; he was enormously rich, he was stupendously charitable, he was +profoundly learned, he saw spectres, he knew and could do all kinds +of wonders. Some said he went out every night, and was met by +terrified wayfarers stalking along dark roads, others said he never +went out, some knew his penance to be nearly expired, others had positive +information that his seclusion was not a penance at all, and would never +expire but with himself. Even, as to the easy facts of how old +he was, or how long he had held verminous occupation of his blanket +and skewer, no consistent information was to be got, from those who +must know if they would. He was represented as being all the ages +between five-and-twenty and sixty, and as having been a hermit seven +years, twelve, twenty, thirty,—though twenty, on the whole, appeared +the favourite term.</p> +<p>“Well, well!” said Mr. Traveller. “At any +rate, let us see what a real live Hermit looks like.”</p> +<p>So, Mr. Traveller went on, and on, and on, until he came to Tom Tiddler’s +Ground.</p> +<p>It was a nook in a rustic by-road, which the genius of Mopes had +laid waste as completely, as if he had been born an Emperor and a Conqueror. +Its centre object was a dwelling-house, sufficiently substantial, all +the window-glass of which had been long ago abolished by the surprising +genius of Mopes, and all the windows of which were barred across with +rough-split logs of trees nailed over them on the outside. A rickyard, +hip-high in vegetable rankness and ruin, contained outbuildings from +which the thatch had lightly fluttered away, on all the winds of all +the seasons of the year, and from which the planks and beams had heavily +dropped and rotted. The frosts and damps of winter, and the heats +of summer, had warped what wreck remained, so that not a post or a board +retained the position it was meant to hold, but everything was twisted +from its purpose, like its owner, and degraded and debased. In +this homestead of the sluggard, behind the ruined hedge, and sinking +away among the ruined grass and the nettles, were the last perishing +fragments of certain ricks: which had gradually mildewed and collapsed, +until they looked like mounds of rotten honeycomb, or dirty sponge. +Tom Tiddler’s ground could even show its ruined water; for, there +was a slimy pond into which a tree or two had fallen—one soppy +trunk and branches lay across it then—which in its accumulation +of stagnant weed, and in its black decomposition, and in all its foulness +and filth, was almost comforting, regarded as the only water that could +have reflected the shameful place without seeming polluted by that low +office.</p> +<p>Mr. Traveller looked all around him on Tom Tiddler’s ground, +and his glance at last encountered a dusky Tinker lying among the weeds +and rank grass, in the shade of the dwelling-house. A rough walking-staff +lay on the ground by his side, and his head rested on a small wallet. +He met Mr. Traveller’s eye without lifting up his head, merely +depressing his chin a little (for he was lying on his back) to get a +better view of him.</p> +<p>“Good day!” said Mr. Traveller.</p> +<p>“Same to you, if you like it,” returned the Tinker.</p> +<p>“Don’t <i>you</i> like it? It’s a very fine +day.”</p> +<p>“I ain’t partickler in weather,” returned the Tinker, +with a yawn.</p> +<p>Mr. Traveller had walked up to where he lay, and was looking down +at him. “This is a curious place,” said Mr. Traveller.</p> +<p>“Ay, I suppose so!” returned the Tinker. “Tom +Tiddler’s ground, they call this.”</p> +<p>“Are you well acquainted with it?”</p> +<p>“Never saw it afore to-day,” said the Tinker, with another +yawn, “and don’t care if I never see it again. There +was a man here just now, told me what it was called. If you want +to see Tom himself, you must go in at that gate.” He faintly +indicated with his chin a little mean ruin of a wooden gate at the side +of the house.</p> +<p>“Have you seen Tom?”</p> +<p>“No, and I ain’t partickler to see him. I can see +a dirty man anywhere.”</p> +<p>“He does not live in the house, then?” said Mr. Traveller, +casting his eyes upon the house anew.</p> +<p>“The man said,” returned the Tinker, rather irritably,—“him +as was here just now, ‘this what you’re a laying on, mate, +is Tom Tiddler’s ground. And if you want to see Tom,’ +he says, ‘you must go in at that gate.’ The man come +out at that gate himself, and he ought to know.”</p> +<p>“Certainly,” said Mr. Traveller.</p> +<p>“Though, perhaps,” exclaimed the Tinker, so struck by +the brightness of his own idea, that it had the electric effect upon +him of causing him to lift up his head an inch or so, “perhaps +he was a liar! He told some rum ’uns—him as was here +just now, did about this place of Tom’s. He says—him +as was here just now—‘When Tom shut up the house, mate, +to go to rack, the beds was left, all made, like as if somebody was +a-going to sleep in every bed. And if you was to walk through +the bedrooms now, you’d see the ragged mouldy bedclothes a heaving +and a heaving like seas. And a heaving and a heaving with what?’ +he says. ‘Why, with the rats under ’em.’”</p> +<p>“I wish I had seen that man,” Mr. Traveller remarked.</p> +<p>“You’d have been welcome to see him instead of me seeing +him,” growled the Tinker; “for he was a long-winded one.”</p> +<p>Not without a sense of injury in the remembrance, the Tinker gloomily +closed his eyes. Mr. Traveller, deeming the Tinker a short-winded +one, from whom no further breath of information was to be derived, betook +himself to the gate.</p> +<p>Swung upon its rusty hinges, it admitted him into a yard in which +there was nothing to be seen but an outhouse attached to the ruined +building, with a barred window in it. As there were traces of +many recent footsteps under this window, and as it was a low window, +and unglazed, Mr. Traveller made bold to peep within the bars. +And there to be sure he had a real live Hermit before him, and could +judge how the real dead Hermits used to look.</p> +<p>He was lying on a bank of soot and cinders, on the floor, in front +of a rusty fireplace. There was nothing else in the dark little +kitchen, or scullery, or whatever his den had been originally used as, +but a table with a litter of old bottles on it. A rat made a clatter +among these bottles, jumped down, and ran over the real live Hermit +on his way to his hole, or the man in <i>his</i> hole would not have +been so easily discernible. Tickled in the face by the rat’s +tail, the owner of Tom Tiddler’s ground opened his eyes, saw Mr. +Traveller, started up, and sprang to the window.</p> +<p>“Humph!” thought Mr. Traveller, retiring a pace or two +from the bars. “A compound of Newgate, Bedlam, a Debtors’ +Prison in the worst time, a chimney-sweep, a mudlark, and the Noble +Savage! A nice old family, the Hermit family. Hah!”</p> +<p>Mr. Traveller thought this, as he silently confronted the sooty object +in the blanket and skewer (in sober truth it wore nothing else), with +the matted hair and the staring eyes. Further, Mr. Traveller thought, +as the eye surveyed him with a very obvious curiosity in ascertaining +the effect they produced, “Vanity, vanity, vanity! Verily, +all is vanity!”</p> +<p>“What is your name, sir, and where do you come from?” +asked Mr. Mopes the Hermit—with an air of authority, but in the +ordinary human speech of one who has been to school.</p> +<p>Mr. Traveller answered the inquiries.</p> +<p>“Did you come here, sir, to see <i>me</i>?”</p> +<p>“I did. I heard of you, and I came to see you.—I +know you like to be seen.” Mr. Traveller coolly threw the +last words in, as a matter of course, to forestall an affectation of +resentment or objection that he saw rising beneath the grease and grime +of the face. They had their effect.</p> +<p>“So,” said the Hermit, after a momentary silence, unclasping +the bars by which he had previously held, and seating himself behind +them on the ledge of the window, with his bare legs and feet crouched +up, “you know I like to be seen?”</p> +<p>Mr. Traveller looked about him for something to sit on, and, observing +a billet of wood in a corner, brought it near the window. Deliberately +seating himself upon it, he answered, “Just so.”</p> +<p>Each looked at the other, and each appeared to take some pains to +get the measure of the other.</p> +<p>“Then you have come to ask me why I lead this life,” +said the Hermit, frowning in a stormy manner. “I never tell +that to any human being. I will not be asked that.”</p> +<p>“Certainly you will not be asked that by me,” said Mr. +Traveller, “for I have not the slightest desire to know.”</p> +<p>“You are an uncouth man,” said Mr. Mopes the Hermit.</p> +<p>“You are another,” said Mr. Traveller.</p> +<p>The Hermit, who was plainly in the habit of overawing his visitors +with the novelty of his filth and his blanket and skewer, glared at +his present visitor in some discomfiture and surprise: as if he had +taken aim at him with a sure gun, and his piece had missed fire.</p> +<p>“Why do you come here at all?” he asked, after a pause.</p> +<p>“Upon my life,” said Mr. Traveller, “I was made +to ask myself that very question only a few minutes ago—by a Tinker +too.”</p> +<p>As he glanced towards the gate in saying it, the Hermit glanced in +that direction likewise.</p> +<p>“Yes. He is lying on his back in the sunlight outside,” +said Mr, Traveller, as if he had been asked concerning the man, “and +he won’t come in; for he says—and really very reasonably—‘What +should I come in for? I can see a dirty man anywhere.’”</p> +<p>“You are an insolent person. Go away from my premises. +Go!” said the Hermit, in an imperious and angry tone.</p> +<p>“Come, come!” returned Mr. Traveller, quite undisturbed. +“This is a little too much. You are not going to call yourself +clean? Look at your legs. And as to these being your premises:—they +are in far too disgraceful a condition to claim any privilege of ownership, +or anything else.”</p> +<p>The Hermit bounced down from his window-ledge, and cast himself on +his bed of soot and cinders.</p> +<p>“I am not going,” said Mr. Traveller, glancing in after +him; “you won’t get rid of me in that way. You had +better come and talk.”</p> +<p>“I won’t talk,” said the Hermit, flouncing round +to get his back towards the window.</p> +<p>“Then I will,” said Mr. Traveller. “Why should +you take it ill that I have no curiosity to know why you live this highly +absurd and highly indecent life? When I contemplate a man in a +state of disease, surely there is no moral obligation on me to be anxious +to know how he took it.”</p> +<p>After a short silence, the Hermit bounced up again, and came back +to the barred window.</p> +<p>“What? You are not gone?” he said, affecting to +have supposed that he was.</p> +<p>“Nor going,” Mr. Traveller replied: “I design to +pass this summer day here.”</p> +<p>“How dare you come, sir, upon my promises—” the +Hermit was returning, when his visitor interrupted him.</p> +<p>“Really, you know, you must <i>not</i> talk about your premises. +I cannot allow such a place as this to be dignified with the name of +premises.”</p> +<p>“How dare you,” said the Hermit, shaking his bars, “come +in at my gate, to taunt me with being in a diseased state?”</p> +<p>“Why, Lord bless my soul,” returned the other, very composedly, +“you have not the face to say that you are in a wholesome state? +Do allow me again to call your attention to your legs. Scrape +yourself anywhere—with anything—and then tell me you are +in a wholesome state. The fact is, Mr. Mopes, that you are not +only a Nuisance—”</p> +<p>“A Nuisance?” repeated the Hermit, fiercely.</p> +<p>“What is a place in this obscene state of dilapidation but +a Nuisance? What is a man in your obscene state of dilapidation +but a Nuisance? Then, as you very well know, you cannot do without +an audience, and your audience is a Nuisance. You attract all +the disreputable vagabonds and prowlers within ten miles around, by +exhibiting yourself to them in that objectionable blanket, and by throwing +copper money among them, and giving them drink out of those very dirty +jars and bottles that I see in there (their stomachs need be strong!); +and in short,” said Mr. Traveller, summing up in a quietly and +comfortably settled manner, “you are a Nuisance, and this kennel +is a Nuisance, and the audience that you cannot possibly dispense with +is a Nuisance, and the Nuisance is not merely a local Nuisance, because +it is a general Nuisance to know that there <i>can be</i> such a Nuisance +left in civilisation so very long after its time.”</p> +<p>“Will you go away? I have a gun in here,” said +the Hermit.</p> +<p>“Pooh!”</p> +<p>“I <i>have</i>!”</p> +<p>“Now, I put it to you. Did I say you had not? And +as to going away, didn’t I say I am not going away? You +have made me forget where I was. I now remember that I was remarking +on your conduct being a Nuisance. Moreover, it is in the last +and lowest degree inconsequent foolishness and weakness.”</p> +<p>“Weakness?” echoed the Hermit.</p> +<p>“Weakness,” said Mr. Traveller, with his former comfortably +settled final air.</p> +<p>“I weak, you fool?” cried the Hermit, “I, who have +held to my purpose, and my diet, and my only bed there, all these years?”</p> +<p>“The more the years, the weaker you,” returned Mr. Traveller. +“Though the years are not so many as folks say, and as you willingly +take credit for. The crust upon your face is thick and dark, Mr. +Mopes, but I can see enough of you through it, to see that you are still +a young man.”</p> +<p>“Inconsequent foolishness is lunacy, I suppose?” said +the Hermit.</p> +<p>“I suppose it is very like it,” answered Mr. Traveller.</p> +<p>“Do I converse like a lunatic?”</p> +<p>“One of us two must have a strong presumption against him of +being one, whether or no. Either the clean and decorously clad +man, or the dirty and indecorously clad man. I don’t say +which.”</p> +<p>“Why, you self-sufficient bear,” said the Hermit, “not +a day passes but I am justified in my purpose by the conversations I +hold here; not a day passes but I am shown, by everything I hear and +see here, how right and strong I am in holding my purpose.”</p> +<p>Mr. Traveller, lounging easily on his billet of wood, took out a +pocket pipe and began to fill it. “Now, that a man,” +he said, appealing to the summer sky as he did so, “that a man—even +behind bars, in a blanket and skewer—should tell me that he can +see, from day to day, any orders or conditions of men, women, or children, +who can by any possibility teach him that it is anything but the miserablest +drivelling for a human creature to quarrel with his social nature—not +to go so far as to say, to renounce his common human decency, for that +is an extreme case; or who can teach him that he can in any wise separate +himself from his kind and the habits of his kind, without becoming a +deteriorated spectacle calculated to give the Devil (and perhaps the +monkeys) pleasure,—is something wonderful! I repeat,” +said Mr. Traveller, beginning to smoke, “the unreasoning hardihood +of it is something wonderful—even in a man with the dirt upon +him an inch or two thick—behind bars—in a blanket and skewer!”</p> +<p>The Hermit looked at him irresolutely, and retired to his soot and +cinders and lay down, and got up again and came to the bars, and again +looked at him irresolutely, and finally said with sharpness: “I +don’t like tobacco.”</p> +<p>“I don’t like dirt,” rejoined Mr. Traveller; “tobacco +is an excellent disinfectant. We shall both be the better for +my pipe. It is my intention to sit here through this summer day, +until that blessed summer sun sinks low in the west, and to show you +what a poor creature you are, through the lips of every chance wayfarer +who may come in at your gate.”</p> +<p>“What do you mean?” inquired the Hermit, with a furious +air.</p> +<p>“I mean that yonder is your gate, and there are you, and here +am I; I mean that I know it to be a moral impossibility that any person +can stray in at that gate from any point of the compass, with any sort +of experience, gained at first hand, or derived from another, that can +confute me and justify you.”</p> +<p>“You are an arrogant and boastful hero,” said the Hermit. +“You think yourself profoundly wise.”</p> +<p>“Bah!” returned Mr. Traveller, quietly smoking. +“There is little wisdom in knowing that every man must be up and +doing, and that all mankind are made dependent on one another.”</p> +<p>“You have companions outside,” said the Hermit. +“I am not to be imposed upon by your assumed confidence in the +people who may enter.”</p> +<p>“A depraved distrust,” returned the visitor, compassionately +raising his eyebrows, “of course belongs to your state, I can’t +help that.”</p> +<p>“Do you mean to tell me you have no confederates?”</p> +<p>“I mean to tell you nothing but what I have told you. +What I have told you is, that it is a moral impossibility that any son +or daughter of Adam can stand on this ground that I put my foot on, +or on any ground that mortal treads, and gainsay the healthy tenure +on which we hold our existence.”</p> +<p>“Which is,” sneered the Hermit, “according to you—”</p> +<p>“Which is,” returned the other, “according to Eternal +Providence, that we must arise and wash our faces and do our gregarious +work and act and re-act on one another, leaving only the idiot and the +palsied to sit blinking in the corner. Come!” apostrophising +the gate. “Open Sesame! Show his eyes and grieve his +heart! I don’t care who comes, for I know what must come +of it!”</p> +<p>With that, he faced round a little on his billet of wood towards +the gate; and Mr. Mopes, the Hermit, after two or three ridiculous bounces +of indecision at his bed and back again, submitted to what he could +not help himself against, and coiled himself on his window-ledge, holding +to his bars and looking out rather anxiously.</p> +<h2>CHAPTER VI—PICKING UP MISS KIMMEENS <a name="citation1"></a><a href="#footnote1">{1}</a></h2> +<p>The day was by this time waning, when the gate again opened, and, +with the brilliant golden light that streamed from the declining sun +and touched the very bars of the sooty creature’s den, there passed +in a little child; a little girl with beautiful bright hair. She +wore a plain straw hat, had a door-key in her hand, and tripped towards +Mr. Traveller as if she were pleased to see him and were going to repose +some childish confidence in him, when she caught sight of the figure +behind the bars, and started back in terror.</p> +<p>“Don’t be alarmed, darling!” said Mr. Traveller, +taking her by the hand.</p> +<p>“Oh, but I don’t like it!” urged the shrinking +child; “it’s dreadful.”</p> +<p>“Well! I don’t like it either,” said Mr. +Traveller.</p> +<p>“Who has put it there?” asked the little girl. +“Does it bite?”</p> +<p>“No,—only barks. But can’t you make up your +mind to see it, my dear?” For she was covering her eyes.</p> +<p>“O no no no!” returned the child. “I cannot +bear to look at it!”</p> +<p>Mr. Traveller turned his head towards his friend in there, as much +as to ask him how he liked that instance of his success, and then took +the child out at the still open gate, and stood talking to her for some +half an hour in the mellow sunlight. At length he returned, encouraging +her as she held his arm with both her hands; and laying his protecting +hand upon her head and smoothing her pretty hair, he addressed his friend +behind the bars as follows:</p> +<p>* * * * *</p> +<p>Miss Pupford’s establishment for six young ladies of tender +years, is an establishment of a compact nature, an establishment in +miniature, quite a pocket establishment. Miss Pupford, Miss Pupford’s +assistant with the Parisian accent, Miss Pupford’s cook, and Miss +Pupford’s housemaid, complete what Miss Pupford calls the educational +and domestic staff of her Lilliputian College.</p> +<p>Miss Pupford is one of the most amiable of her sex; it necessarily +follows that she possesses a sweet temper, and would own to the possession +of a great deal of sentiment if she considered it quite reconcilable +with her duty to parents. Deeming it not in the bond, Miss Pupford +keeps it as far out of sight as she can—which (God bless her!) +is not very far.</p> +<p>Miss Pupford’s assistant with the Parisian accent, may be regarded +as in some sort an inspired lady, for she never conversed with a Parisian, +and was never out of England—except once in the pleasure-boat +Lively, in the foreign waters that ebb and flow two miles off Margate +at high water. Even under those geographically favourable circumstances +for the acquisition of the French language in its utmost politeness +and purity, Miss Pupford’s assistant did not fully profit by the +opportunity; for the pleasure-boat, Lively, so strongly asserted its +title to its name on that occasion, that she was reduced to the condition +of lying in the bottom of the boat pickling in brine—as if she +were being salted down for the use of the Navy—undergoing at the +same time great mental alarm, corporeal distress, and clear-starching +derangement.</p> +<p>When Miss Pupford and her assistant first foregathered, is not known +to men, or pupils. But, it was long ago. A belief would +have established itself among pupils that the two once went to school +together, were it not for the difficulty and audacity of imagining Miss +Pupford born without mittens, and without a front, and without a bit +of gold wire among her front teeth, and without little dabs of powder +on her neat little face and nose. Indeed, whenever Miss Pupford +gives a little lecture on the mythology of the misguided heathens (always +carefully excluding Cupid from recognition), and tells how Minerva sprang, +perfectly equipped, from the brain of Jupiter, she is half supposed +to hint, “So I myself came into the world, completely up in Pinnock, +Mangnall, Tables, and the use of the Globes.”</p> +<p>Howbeit, Miss Pupford and Miss Pupford’s assistant are old +old friends. And it is thought by pupils that, after pupils are +gone to bed, they even call one another by their christian names in +the quiet little parlour. For, once upon a time on a thunderous +afternoon, when Miss Pupford fainted away without notice, Miss Pupford’s +assistant (never heard, before or since, to address her otherwise than +as Miss Pupford) ran to her, crying out, “My dearest Euphemia!” +And Euphemia is Miss Pupford’s christian name on the sampler (date +picked out) hanging up in the College-hall, where the two peacocks, +terrified to death by some German text that is waddling down-hill after +them out of a cottage, are scuttling away to hide their profiles in +two immense bean-stalks growing out of flower-pots.</p> +<p>Also, there is a notion latent among pupils, that Miss Pupford was +once in love, and that the beloved object still moves upon this ball. +Also, that he is a public character, and a personage of vast consequence. +Also, that Miss Pupford’s assistant knows all about it. +For, sometimes of an afternoon when Miss Pupford has been reading the +paper through her little gold eye-glass (it is necessary to read it +on the spot, as the boy calls for it, with ill-conditioned punctuality, +in an hour), she has become agitated, and has said to her assistant +“G!” Then Miss Pupford’s assistant has gone +to Miss Pupford, and Miss Pupford has pointed out, with her eye-glass, +G in the paper, and then Miss Pupford’s assistant has read about +G, and has shown sympathy. So stimulated has the pupil-mind been +in its time to curiosity on the subject of G, that once, under temporary +circumstances favourable to the bold sally, one fearless pupil did actually +obtain possession of the paper, and range all over it in search of G, +who had been discovered therein by Miss Pupford not ten minutes before. +But no G could be identified, except one capital offender who had been +executed in a state of great hardihood, and it was not to be supposed +that Miss Pupford could ever have loved <i>him</i>. Besides, he +couldn’t be always being executed. Besides, he got into +the paper again, alive, within a month.</p> +<p>On the whole, it is suspected by the pupil-mind that G is a short +chubby old gentleman, with little black sealing-wax boots up to his +knees, whom a sharply observant pupil, Miss Linx, when she once went +to Tunbridge Wells with Miss Pupford for the holidays, reported on her +return (privately and confidentially) to have seen come capering up +to Miss Pupford on the Promenade, and to have detected in the act of +squeezing Miss Pupford’s hand, and to have heard pronounce the +words, “Cruel Euphemia, ever thine!”—or something +like that. Miss Linx hazarded a guess that he might be House of +Commons, or Money Market, or Court Circular, or Fashionable Movements; +which would account for his getting into the paper so often. But, +it was fatally objected by the pupil-mind, that none of those notabilities +could possibly be spelt with a G.</p> +<p>There are other occasions, closely watched and perfectly comprehended +by the pupil-mind, when Miss Pupford imparts with mystery to her assistant +that there is special excitement in the morning paper. These occasions +are, when Miss Pupford finds an old pupil coming out under the head +of Births, or Marriages. Affectionate tears are invariably seen +in Miss Pupford’s meek little eyes when this is the case; and +the pupil-mind, perceiving that its order has distinguished itself—though +the fact is never mentioned by Miss Pupford—becomes elevated, +and feels that it likewise is reserved for greatness.</p> +<p>Miss Pupford’s assistant with the Parisian accent has a little +more bone than Miss Pupford, but is of the same trim orderly diminutive +cast, and, from long contemplation, admiration, and imitation of Miss +Pupford, has grown like her. Being entirely devoted to Miss Pupford, +and having a pretty talent for pencil-drawing, she once made a portrait +of that lady: which was so instantly identified and hailed by the pupils, +that it was done on stone at five shillings. Surely the softest +and milkiest stone that ever was quarried, received that likeness of +Miss Pupford! The lines of her placid little nose are so undecided +in it that strangers to the work of art are observed to be exceedingly +perplexed as to where the nose goes to, and involuntarily feel their +own noses in a disconcerted manner. Miss Pupford being represented +in a state of dejection at an open window, ruminating over a bowl of +gold fish, the pupil-mind has settled that the bowl was presented by +G, and that he wreathed the bowl with flowers of soul, and that Miss +Pupford is depicted as waiting for him on a memorable occasion when +he was behind his time.</p> +<p>The approach of the last Midsummer holidays had a particular interest +for the pupil-mind, by reason of its knowing that Miss Pupford was bidden, +on the second day of those holidays, to the nuptials of a former pupil. +As it was impossible to conceal the fact—so extensive were the +dress-making preparations—Miss Pupford openly announced it. +But, she held it due to parents to make the announcement with an air +of gentle melancholy, as if marriage were (as indeed it exceptionally +has been) rather a calamity. With an air of softened resignation +and pity, therefore, Miss Pupford went on with her preparations: and +meanwhile no pupil ever went up-stairs, or came down, without peeping +in at the door of Miss Pupford’s bedroom (when Miss Pupford wasn’t +there), and bringing back some surprising intelligence concerning the +bonnet.</p> +<p>The extensive preparations being completed on the day before the +holidays, an unanimous entreaty was preferred to Miss Pupford by the +pupil-mind—finding expression through Miss Pupford’s assistant—that +she would deign to appear in all her splendour. Miss Pupford consenting, +presented a lovely spectacle. And although the oldest pupil was +barely thirteen, every one of the six became in two minutes perfect +in the shape, cut, colour, price, and quality, of every article Miss +Pupford wore.</p> +<p>Thus delightfully ushered in, the holidays began. Five of the +six pupils kissed little Kitty Kimmeens twenty times over (round total, +one hundred times, for she was very popular), and so went home. +Miss Kitty Kimmeens remained behind, for her relations and friends were +all in India, far away. A self-helpful steady little child is +Miss Kitty Kimmeens: a dimpled child too, and a loving.</p> +<p>So, the great marriage-day came, and Miss Pupford, quite as much +fluttered as any bride could be (G! thought Miss Kitty Kimmeens), went +away, splendid to behold, in the carriage that was sent for her. +But not Miss Pupford only went away; for Miss Pupford’s assistant +went away with her, on a dutiful visit to an aged uncle—though +surely the venerable gentleman couldn’t live in the gallery of +the church where the marriage was to be, thought Miss Kitty Kimmeens—and +yet Miss Pupford’s assistant had let out that she was going there. +Where the cook was going, didn’t appear, but she generally conveyed +to Miss Kimmeens that she was bound, rather against her will, on a pilgrimage +to perform some pious office that rendered new ribbons necessary to +her best bonnet, and also sandals to her shoes.</p> +<p>“So you see,” said the housemaid, when they were all +gone, “there’s nobody left in the house but you and me, +Miss Kimmeens.”</p> +<p>“Nobody else,” said Miss Kitty Kimmeens, shaking her +curls a little sadly. “Nobody!”</p> +<p>“And you wouldn’t like your Bella to go too; would you, +Miss Kimmeens?” said the housemaid. (She being Bella.)</p> +<p>“N-no,” answered little Miss Kimmeens.</p> +<p>“Your poor Bella is forced to stay with you, whether she likes +it or not; ain’t she, Miss Kimmeens?”</p> +<p>“<i>Don’t</i> you like it?” inquired Kitty.</p> +<p>“Why, you’re such a darling, Miss, that it would be unkind +of your Bella to make objections. Yet my brother-in-law has been +took unexpected bad by this morning’s post. And your poor +Bella is much attached to him, letting alone her favourite sister, Miss +Kimmeens.”</p> +<p>“Is he very ill?” asked little Kitty.</p> +<p>“Your poor Bella has her fears so, Miss Kimmeens,” returned +the housemaid, with her apron at her eyes. “It was but his +inside, it is true, but it might mount, and the doctor said that if +it mounted he wouldn’t answer.” Here the housemaid +was so overcome that Kitty administered the only comfort she had ready: +which was a kiss.</p> +<p>“If it hadn’t been for disappointing Cook, dear Miss +Kimmeens,” said the housemaid, “your Bella would have asked +her to stay with you. For Cook is sweet company, Miss Kimmeens, +much more so than your own poor Bella.”</p> +<p>“But you are very nice, Bella.”</p> +<p>“Your Bella could wish to be so, Miss Kimmeens,” returned +the housemaid, “but she knows full well that it do not lay in +her power this day.”</p> +<p>With which despondent conviction, the housemaid drew a heavy sigh, +and shook her head, and dropped it on one side.</p> +<p>“If it had been anyways right to disappoint Cook,” she +pursued, in a contemplative and abstracted manner, “it might have +been so easy done! I could have got to my brother-in-law’s, +and had the best part of the day there, and got back, long before our +ladies come home at night, and neither the one nor the other of them +need never have known it. Not that Miss Pupford would at all object, +but that it might put her out, being tender-hearted. Hows’ever, +your own poor Bella, Miss Kimmeens,” said the housemaid, rousing +herself, “is forced to stay with you, and you’re a precious +love, if not a liberty.”</p> +<p>“Bella,” said little Kitty, after a short silence.</p> +<p>“Call your own poor Bella, your Bella, dear,” the housemaid +besought her.</p> +<p>“My Bella, then.”</p> +<p>“Bless your considerate heart!” said the housemaid.</p> +<p>“If you would not mind leaving me, I should not mind being +left. I am not afraid to stay in the house alone. And you +need not be uneasy on my account, for I would be very careful to do +no harm.”</p> +<p>“O! As to harm, you more than sweetest, if not a liberty,” +exclaimed the housemaid, in a rapture, “your Bella could trust +you anywhere, being so steady, and so answerable. The oldest head +in this house (me and Cook says), but for its bright hair, is Miss Kimmeens. +But no, I will not leave you; for you would think your Bella unkind.”</p> +<p>“But if you are my Bella, you <i>must</i> go,” returned +the child.</p> +<p>“Must I?” said the housemaid, rising, on the whole with +alacrity. “What must be, must be, Miss Kimmeens. Your +own poor Bella acts according, though unwilling. But go or stay, +your own poor Bella loves you, Miss Kimmeens.”</p> +<p>It was certainly go, and not stay, for within five minutes Miss Kimmeens’s +own poor Bella—so much improved in point of spirits as to have +grown almost sanguine on the subject of her brother-in-law—went +her way, in apparel that seemed to have been expressly prepared for +some festive occasion. Such are the changes of this fleeting world, +and so short-sighted are we poor mortals!</p> +<p>When the house door closed with a bang and a shake, it seemed to +Miss Kimmeens to be a very heavy house door, shutting her up in a wilderness +of a house. But, Miss Kimmeens being, as before stated, of a self-reliant +and methodical character, presently began to parcel out the long summer-day +before her.</p> +<p>And first she thought she would go all over the house, to make quite +sure that nobody with a great-coat on and a carving-knife in it, had +got under one of the beds or into one of the cupboards. Not that +she had ever before been troubled by the image of anybody armed with +a great-coat and a carving-knife, but that it seemed to have been shaken +into existence by the shake and the bang of the great street-door, reverberating +through the solitary house. So, little Miss Kimmeens looked under +the five empty beds of the five departed pupils, and looked, under her +own bed, and looked under Miss Pupford’s bed, and looked under +Miss Pupford’s assistants bed. And when she had done this, +and was making the tour of the cupboards, the disagreeable thought came +into her young head, What a very alarming thing it would be to find +somebody with a mask on, like Guy Fawkes, hiding bolt upright in a corner +and pretending not to be alive! However, Miss Kimmeens having +finished her inspection without making any such uncomfortable discovery, +sat down in her tidy little manner to needlework, and began stitching +away at a great rate.</p> +<p>The silence all about her soon grew very oppressive, and the more +so because of the odd inconsistency that the more silent it was, the +more noises there were. The noise of her own needle and thread +as she stitched, was infinitely louder in her ears than the stitching +of all the six pupils, and of Miss Pupford, and of Miss Pupford’s +assistant, all stitching away at once on a highly emulative afternoon. +Then, the schoolroom clock conducted itself in a way in which it had +never conducted itself before—fell lame, somehow, and yet persisted +in running on as hard and as loud as it could: the consequence of which +behaviour was, that it staggered among the minutes in a state of the +greatest confusion, and knocked them about in all directions without +appearing to get on with its regular work. Perhaps this alarmed +the stairs; but be that as it might, they began to creak in a most unusual +manner, and then the furniture began to crack, and then poor little +Miss Kimmeens, not liking the furtive aspect of things in general, began +to sing as she stitched. But, it was not her own voice that she +heard—it was somebody else making believe to be Kitty, and singing +excessively flat, without any heart—so as that would never mend +matters, she left off again.</p> +<p>By-and-by the stitching became so palpable a failure that Miss Kitty +Kimmeens folded her work neatly, and put it away in its box, and gave +it up. Then the question arose about reading. But no; the +book that was so delightful when there was somebody she loved for her +eyes to fall on when they rose from the page, had not more heart in +it than her own singing now. The book went to its shelf as the +needlework had gone to its box, and, since something <i>must</i> be +done—thought the child, “I’ll go put my room to rights.”</p> +<p>She shared her room with her dearest little friend among the other +five pupils, and why then should she now conceive a lurking dread of +the little friend’s bedstead? But she did. There was +a stealthy air about its innocent white curtains, and there were even +dark hints of a dead girl lying under the coverlet. The great +want of human company, the great need of a human face, began now to +express itself in the facility with which the furniture put on strange +exaggerated resemblances to human looks. A chair with a menacing +frown was horribly out of temper in a corner; a most vicious chest of +drawers snarled at her from between the windows. It was no relief +to escape from those monsters to the looking-glass, for the reflection +said, “What? Is that you all alone there? How you +stare!” And the background was all a great void stare as +well.</p> +<p>The day dragged on, dragging Kitty with it very slowly by the hair +of her head, until it was time to eat. There were good provisions +in the pantry, but their right flavour and relish had evaporated with +the five pupils, and Miss Pupford, and Miss Pupford’s assistant, +and the cook and housemaid. Where was the use of laying the cloth +symmetrically for one small guest, who had gone on ever since the morning +growing smaller and smaller, while the empty house had gone on swelling +larger and larger? The very Grace came out wrong, for who were +“we” who were going to receive and be thankful? So, +Miss Kimmeens was <i>not</i> thankful, and found herself taking her +dinner in very slovenly style—gobbling it up, in short, rather +after the manner of the lower animals, not to particularise the pigs.</p> +<p>But, this was by no means the worst of the change wrought out in +the naturally loving and cheery little creature as the solitary day +wore on. She began to brood and be suspicious. She discovered +that she was full of wrongs and injuries. All the people she knew, +got tainted by her lonely thoughts and turned bad.</p> +<p>It was all very well for Papa, a widower in India, to send her home +to be educated, and to pay a handsome round sum every year for her to +Miss Pupford, and to write charming letters to his darling little daughter; +but what did he care for her being left by herself, when he was (as +no doubt he always was) enjoying himself in company from morning till +night? Perhaps he only sent her here, after all, to get her out +of the way. It looked like it—looked like it to-day, that +is, for she had never dreamed of such a thing before.</p> +<p>And this old pupil who was being married. It was unsupportably +conceited and selfish in the old pupil to be married. She was +very vain, and very glad to show off; but it was highly probable that +she wasn’t pretty; and even if she were pretty (which Miss Kimmeens +now totally denied), she had no business to be married; and, even if +marriage were conceded, she had no business to ask Miss Pupford to her +wedding. As to Miss Pupford, she was too old to go to any wedding. +She ought to know that. She had much better attend to her business. +She had thought she looked nice in the morning, but she didn’t +look nice. She was a stupid old thing. G was another stupid +old thing. Miss Pupford’s assistant was another. They +were all stupid old things together.</p> +<p>More than that: it began to be obvious that this was a plot. +They had said to one another, “Never mind Kitty; you get off, +and I’ll get off; and we’ll leave Kitty to look after herself. +Who cares for her?” To be sure they were right in that question; +for who <i>did</i> care for her, a poor little lonely thing against +whom they all planned and plotted? Nobody, nobody! Here +Kitty sobbed.</p> +<p>At all other times she was the pet of the whole house, and loved +her five companions in return with a child’s tenderest and most +ingenuous attachment; but now, the five companions put on ugly colours, +and appeared for the first time under a sullen cloud. There they +were, all at their homes that day, being made much of, being taken out, +being spoilt and made disagreeable, and caring nothing for her. +It was like their artful selfishness always to tell her when they came +back, under pretence of confidence and friendship, all those details +about where they had been, and what they had done and seen, and how +often they had said, “O! If we had only darling little Kitty +here!” Here indeed! I dare say! When they came +back after the holidays, they were used to being received by Kitty, +and to saying that coming to Kitty was like coming to another home. +Very well then, why did they go away? If the meant it, why did +they go away? Let them answer that. But they didn’t +mean it, and couldn’t answer that, and they didn’t tell +the truth, and people who didn’t tell the truth were hateful. +When they came back next time, they should be received in a new manner; +they should be avoided and shunned.</p> +<p>And there, the while she sat all alone revolving how ill she was +used, and how much better she was than the people who were not alone, +the wedding breakfast was going on: no question of it! With a +nasty great bride-cake, and with those ridiculous orange-flowers, and +with that conceited bride, and that hideous bridegroom, and those heartless +bridesmaids, and Miss Pupford stuck up at the table! They thought +they were enjoying themselves, but it would come home to them one day +to have thought so. They would all be dead in a few years, let +them enjoy themselves ever so much. It was a religious comfort +to know that.</p> +<p>It was such a comfort to know it, that little Miss Kitty Kimmeens +suddenly sprang from the chair in which she had been musing in a corner, +and cried out, “O those envious thoughts are not mine, O this +wicked creature isn’t me! Help me, somebody! I go +wrong, alone by my weak self! Help me, anybody!”</p> +<p>* * * * *</p> +<p>“—Miss Kimmeens is not a professed philosopher, sir,” +said Mr. Traveller, presenting her at the barred window, and smoothing +her shining hair, “but I apprehend there was some tincture of +philosophy in her words, and in the prompt action with which she followed +them. That action was, to emerge from her unnatural solitude, +and look abroad for wholesome sympathy, to bestow and to receive. +Her footsteps strayed to this gate, bringing her here by chance, as +an apposite contrast to you. The child came out, sir. If +you have the wisdom to learn from a child (but I doubt it, for that +requires more wisdom than one in your condition would seem to possess), +you cannot do better than imitate the child, and come out too—from +that very demoralising hutch of yours.”</p> +<h2>CHAPTER VII—PICKING UP THE TINKER</h2> +<p>It was now sunset. The Hermit had betaken himself to his bed +of cinders half an hour ago, and lying on it in his blanket and skewer +with his back to the window, took not the smallest heed of the appeal +addressed to him.</p> +<p>All that had been said for the last two hours, had been said to a +tinkling accompaniment performed by the Tinker, who had got to work +upon some villager’s pot or kettle, and was working briskly outside. +This music still continuing, seemed to put it into Mr. Traveller’s +mind to have another word or two with the Tinker. So, holding +Miss Kimmeens (with whom he was now on the most friendly terms) by the +hand, he went out at the gate to where the Tinker was seated at his +work on the patch of grass on the opposite side of the road, with his +wallet of tools open before him, and his little fire smoking.</p> +<p>“I am glad to see you employed,” said Mr. Traveller.</p> +<p>“I am glad to <i>be</i> employed,” returned the Tinker, +looking up as he put the finishing touches to his job. “But +why are you glad?”</p> +<p>“I thought you were a lazy fellow when I saw you this morning.”</p> +<p>“I was only disgusted,” said the Tinker.</p> +<p>“Do you mean with the fine weather?”</p> +<p>“With the fine weather?” repeated the Tinker, staring.</p> +<p>“You told me you were not particular as to weather, and I thought—”</p> +<p>“Ha, ha! How should such as me get on, if we <i>was</i> +particular as to weather? We must take it as it comes, and make +the best of it. There’s something good in all weathers. +If it don’t happen to be good for my work to-day, it’s good +for some other man’s to-day, and will come round to me to-morrow. +We must all live.”</p> +<p>“Pray shake hands,” said Mr. Traveller.</p> +<p>“Take care, sir,” was the Tinker’s caution, as +he reached up his hand in surprise; “the black comes off.”</p> +<p>“I am glad of it,” said Mr. Traveller. “I +have been for several hours among other black that does not come off.”</p> +<p>“You are speaking of Tom in there?”</p> +<p>“Yes.”</p> +<p>“Well now,” said the Tinker, blowing the dust off his +job: which was finished. “Ain’t it enough to disgust +a pig, if he could give his mind to it?”</p> +<p>“If he could give his mind to it,” returned the other, +smiling, “the probability is that he wouldn’t be a pig.”</p> +<p>“There you clench the nail,” returned the Tinker. +“Then what’s to be said for Tom?”</p> +<p>“Truly, very little.”</p> +<p>“Truly nothing you mean, sir,” said the Tinker, as he +put away his tools.</p> +<p>“A better answer, and (I freely acknowledge) my meaning. +I infer that he was the cause of your disgust?”</p> +<p>“Why, look’ee here, sir,” said the Tinker, rising +to his feet, and wiping his face on the corner of his black apron energetically; +“I leave you to judge!—I ask you!—Last night I has +a job that needs to be done in the night, and I works all night. +Well, there’s nothing in that. But this morning I comes +along this road here, looking for a sunny and soft spot to sleep in, +and I sees this desolation and ruination. I’ve lived myself +in desolation and ruination; I knows many a fellow-creetur that’s +forced to live life long in desolation and ruination; and I sits me +down and takes pity on it, as I casts my eyes about. Then comes +up the long-winded one as I told you of, from that gate, and spins himself +out like a silkworm concerning the Donkey (if my Donkey at home will +excuse me) as has made it all—made it of his own choice! +And tells me, if you please, of his likewise choosing to go ragged and +naked, and grimy—maskerading, mountebanking, in what is the real +hard lot of thousands and thousands! Why, then I say it’s +a unbearable and nonsensical piece of inconsistency, and I’m disgusted. +I’m ashamed and disgusted!”</p> +<p>“I wish you would come and look at him,” said Mr. Traveller, +clapping the Tinker on the shoulder.</p> +<p>“Not I, sir,” he rejoined. “I ain’t +a going to flatter him up by looking at him!”</p> +<p>“But he is asleep.”</p> +<p>“Are you sure he is asleep?” asked the Tinker, with an +unwilling air, as he shouldered his wallet.</p> +<p>“Sure.”</p> +<p>“Then I’ll look at him for a quarter of a minute,” +said the Tinker, “since you so much wish it; but not a moment +longer.”</p> +<p>They all three went back across the road; and, through the barred +window, by the dying glow of the sunset coming in at the gate—which +the child held open for its admission—he could be pretty clearly +discerned lying on his bed.</p> +<p>“You see him?” asked Mr. Traveller.</p> +<p>“Yes,” returned the Tinker, “and he’s worse +than I thought him.”</p> +<p>Mr. Traveller then whispered in few words what he had done since +morning; and asked the Tinker what he thought of that?</p> +<p>“I think,” returned the Tinker, as he turned from the +window, “that you’ve wasted a day on him.”</p> +<p>“I think so too; though not, I hope, upon myself. Do +you happen to be going anywhere near the Peal of Bells?”</p> +<p>“That’s my direct way, sir,” said the Tinker.</p> +<p>“I invite you to supper there. And as I learn from this +young lady that she goes some three-quarters of a mile in the same direction, +we will drop her on the road, and we will spare time to keep her company +at her garden gate until her own Bella comes home.”</p> +<p>So, Mr. Traveller, and the child, and the Tinker, went along very +amicably in the sweet-scented evening; and the moral with which the +Tinker dismissed the subject was, that he said in his trade that metal +that rotted for want of use, had better be left to rot, and couldn’t +rot too soon, considering how much true metal rotted from over-use and +hard service.</p> +<h2>FOOTNOTES</h2> +<p><a name="footnote1"></a><a href="#citation1">{1}</a> Dickens +didn’t write chapters 2 to 5 and they are omitted in this edition.</p> +<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TOM TIDDLER'S GROUND***</p> +<pre> + + +***** This file should be named 1413-h.htm or 1413-h.zip****** + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/4/1/1413 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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