Magnum Bonum; Or, Mother Carey's BroodYonge, Charlotte M. (Charlotte Mary)
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Magnum Bonum; Or, Mother Carey's Brood
Yonge, Charlotte M. (Charlotte Mary)
Domestic fiction; England -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction; Religious fiction
“Have you, Babie? So have I,” returned Armine; and the two, who had
been wedged into one seat, began a whispering conversation, by which
the listeners might have learnt that there was a friendly rivalry as
to which had made the two pounds provide the largest possible number
of presents. Neither had bought anything for self, for the chest of
drawers, bath, and broom were for Babie’s precious dolls, not for
herself. Mother Carey, uncle and aunt, brothers, sisters, cousins,
servants, Mr. Gould, the gardener’s grandson, the old apple-woman, “the
little thin girls,” had all been provided for at that wonderful German
Bazaar, and the only regret was that gifts for Mr. Ogilvie and Alfred
Richards could not be brought within the powers of even two pounds. What
had Mother Carey bought? Ah! Nobody was to know till Twelfth-day, and
then the first tree cut at Belforest would be a Christmas-tree. Then
came a few regrets that everybody had proclaimed their purchases, and
therewith people began to grow weary and drop asleep. It was by gaslight
that they arrived at home and bundled into the flys that awaited them,
and then in the hall at home came Elvira’s cry--
“Where’s my doggie, my Chico?”
“Here; I took him out,” said Jock.
“That’s not Chico; that’s a nasty, horrid, yellow cur. Chico was black.
You naughty boy, Jock, you’ve been and changed my dog.”
“Has Midas changed him to gold?” cried Babie.
“Ah,” said Bobus, meaningly.
“You’ve done it then, Bobus! You’ve put something to him.”
“_I_ haven’t,” said Bobus, “but he’s been licking himself all the way
home. Well, we all know green is the sacred colour of the Grand Turk.”
“No! You don’t mean it!” said Allen, catching up the dog and holding him
to the lamp, while Janet observed that he was a sort of chameleon, for
his body, which had been black, was now yellow, and his chops which had
been tan, had become black.
Elvira began to cry angrily, still uncomprehending, and fancying Bobus
and Jock had played her a trick and changed her dog; Allen abused the
horrid little brute, and the more horrid man who had deceived him; and
Armine began pitying and caressing him, seriously distressed lest
the poor little beast should have poisoned himself. Caroline herself
expected to have heard that he was dead the next morning, and would
have felt more compassion than regret; but, to her surprise and Allen’s
chagrin, Chico made his appearance, very rhubarb-coloured and perfectly
well.
“I think,” said Elvira, “I will give Chico to grandpapa, for a nice
London present.”
Everybody burst out laughing at this piece of generosity, and though the
young lady never quite understood what amused them, and Allen heartily
wished Chico among the army of dogs at River Hollow, he did somehow or
other remain at the Folly, and, after the fashion of dogs, adopted Jock
as the special object of his devotion.
Ellen came in, expecting to regale her eyes with the newest fashions. Or
were they all coming down from the dressmaker?
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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