The Cricket on the Hearth: A Fairy Tale of HomeDickens, Charles
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The Cricket on the Hearth: A Fairy Tale of Home
Dickens, Charles
Christmas stories, English; England -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction; Holidays -- Fiction
Of course it became a serious duty now, to make such a day of it, as
should mark these events for a high Feast and Festival in the
Peerybingle Calendar for evermore. Accordingly, Dot went to work to
produce such an entertainment, as should reflect undying honour on the
house and every one concerned; and in a very short space of time, she
was up to her dimpled elbows in flour, and whitening the Carrier's coat,
every time he came near her, by stopping him to give him a kiss. That
good fellow washed the greens, and peeled the turnips, and broke the
plates, and upset iron pots full of cold water on the fire, and made
himself useful in all sorts of ways: while a couple of professional
assistants, hastily called in from somewhere in the neighbourhood, as on
a point of life or death, ran against each other in all the doorways and
round all the corners; and everybody tumbled over Tilly Slowboy and the
Baby, everywhere. Tilly never came out in such force before. Her
ubiquity was the theme of general admiration. She was a stumbling-block
in the passage at five and twenty minutes past two; a man-trap in the
kitchen at half-past two precisely; and a pitfall in the garret at five
and twenty minutes to three. The Baby's head was, as it were, a test
and touchstone for every description of matter, animal, vegetable, and
mineral. Nothing was in use that day that didn't come, at some time or
other, into close acquaintance with it.
Then, there was a great Expedition set on foot to go and find out Mrs.
Fielding; and to be dismally penitent to that excellent gentlewoman; and
to bring her back, by force if needful, to be happy and forgiving. And
when the Expedition first discovered her, she would listen to no terms
at all, but said, an unspeakable number of times, that ever she should
have lived to see the day! and couldn't be got to say anything else,
except "Now carry me to the grave;" which seemed absurd, on account of
her not being dead, or anything at all like it. After a time, she lapsed
into a state of dreadful calmness, and observed, that when that
unfortunate train of circumstances had occurred in the Indigo Trade, she
had foreseen that she would be exposed, during her whole life, to every
species of insult and contumely; and that she was glad to find it was
the case; and begged they wouldn't trouble themselves about her,--for
what was she? oh, dear! a nobody!--but would forget that such a being
lived, and would take their course in life without her. From this
bitterly sarcastic mood, she passed into an angry one, in which she gave
vent to the remarkable expression that the worm would turn if trodden
on; and after that, she yielded to a soft regret, and said, if they had
only given her their confidence, what might she not have had it in her
power to suggest! Taking advantage of this crisis in her feelings, the
Expedition embraced her; and she very soon had her gloves on, and was on
her way to John Peerybingle's in a state of unimpeachable gentility;
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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