Adoptive parents -- Fiction; Christmas stories; Deaf children -- Fiction; Short stories, English
But what was to the present point in the remarks of the travelling giant,
otherwise Pickleson, was this: "Doctor Marigold,"--I give his words
without a hope of conweying their feebleness,--"who is the strange young
man that hangs about your carts?"--"The strange young _man_?" I gives
him back, thinking that he meant her, and his languid circulation had
dropped a syllable. "Doctor," he returns, with a pathos calculated to
draw a tear from even a manly eye, "I am weak, but not so weak yet as
that I don't know my words. I repeat them, Doctor. The strange young
man." It then appeared that Pickleson, being forced to stretch his legs
(not that they wanted it) only at times when he couldn't be seen for
nothing, to wit in the dead of the night and towards daybreak, had twice
seen hanging about my carts, in that same town of Lancaster where I had
been only two nights, this same unknown young man.
It put me rather out of sorts. What it meant as to particulars I no more
foreboded then than you forebode now, but it put me rather out of sorts.
Howsoever, I made light of it to Pickleson, and I took leave of
Pickleson, advising him to spend his legacy in getting up his stamina,
and to continue to stand by his religion. Towards morning I kept a look
out for the strange young man, and--what was more--I saw the strange
young man. He was well dressed and well looking. He loitered very nigh
my carts, watching them like as if he was taking care of them, and soon
after daybreak turned and went away. I sent a hail after him, but he
never started or looked round, or took the smallest notice.
We left Lancaster within an hour or two, on our way towards Carlisle.
Next morning, at daybreak, I looked out again for the strange young man.
I did not see him. But next morning I looked out again, and there he was
once more. I sent another hail after him, but as before he gave not the
slightest sign of being anyways disturbed. This put a thought into my
head. Acting on it I watched him in different manners and at different
times not necessary to enter into, till I found that this strange young
man was deaf and dumb.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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