"Now, stick, you must go in," said she; "it's no use your resisting, and
what's more, you must burn, and burn quickly too,--d'ye hear? or the
kettle won't boil in time for breakfast. Be quick, you little fellow--
burn away and light the others, there's a good boy." Here she knocked
down the tongs. "Tongs, be quiet; how dare you make that noise?" Then,
as she replaced them, "Stand up, sir, in your place until you are
wanted. Now, poker, your turn's coming, we must have a stir directly.
Bless me, smoke, what's the matter with you now? can't you go up the
chimney? You can't pretend to say the wind blows you down this fine
morning, so none of your vagaries. Now, fender, it's your turn--stand
still till I give you a bit of a rub. There, now you're all right.
Table, you want your face washed--your master has spilt his grog last
night--there now, you look as handsome as ever. Well, old chair, how
are you this morning? You're older than I am, I reckon, and yet you're
stouter on your legs. Why, candle, are you burning all this while? Why
didn't you tell me? I would have put you out long ago. Come, now,
don't be making a smell here--send it up the chimney."
Thus would she talk to everything. We only had two animals in the
house--a cat and a canary bird: of course they were not neglected, but
somehow or another the cat appeared to get tired of it, for it would
rise and very gently walk into the back kitchen; and as for the canary
bird, like all other canary birds, as soon as he was talked to he would
begin to sing, and that so loud that Mrs Maddox was beaten out of the
field. Bramble bore with her very well, but at the same time he did not
like it: he once said to me, "Well, if Bessy were at Deal, I think I
would take a short spell now; but as for that poor good old soul, whose
tongue is hung on the middle and works at both ends, she does tire one,
and that's the truth." But she really was a good-natured, kind
creature, ready to oblige in everything; and I believe that she thought
that she was amusing you when she talked on in this way. Unfortunately
she had no anecdote, for she had a very bad memory, and therefore there
was nothing to be gained from her. By way of amusing me, she used to
say, "Now, Tom, sit down here, and I'll tell you all about my bad leg."
And then she would commence with the first symptoms, the degrees of
pain, the various plasters, bandages, and poultices which had been
applied, and what the doctor had said this day and that day. I bore
this very patiently for four or five times; but at last, after several
days of increasing impatience (somewhere about the fifteenth time, I
believe), I could stand it no more, so I jumped off my chair and ran
away just as she commenced the interesting detail.
"Mrs Maddox," said I, "I cannot bear to hear of your sufferings; pray
never mention them again."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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