I fully expected to find a Constable in the kitchen, waiting to take me

up. But not only was there no Constable there, but no discovery had yet

been made of the robbery. Mrs. Joe was prodigiously busy in getting the

house ready for the festivities of the day, and Joe had been put upon

the kitchen doorstep to keep him out of the dust-pan,--an article into

which his destiny always led him, sooner or later, when my sister was

vigorously reaping the floors of her establishment.

"And where the deuce ha' you been?" was Mrs. Joe's Christmas salutation,

when I and my conscience showed ourselves.

I said I had been down to hear the Carols. "Ah! well!" observed Mrs.

Joe. "You might ha' done worse." Not a doubt of that I thought.

"Perhaps if I warn't a blacksmith's wife, and (what's the same thing) a

slave with her apron never off, I should have been to hear the Carols,"

said Mrs. Joe. "I'm rather partial to Carols, myself, and that's the

best of reasons for my never hearing any."

Joe, who had ventured into the kitchen after me as the dustpan had

retired before us, drew the back of his hand across his nose with a

conciliatory air, when Mrs. Joe darted a look at him, and, when her eyes

were withdrawn, secretly crossed his two forefingers, and exhibited them

to me, as our token that Mrs. Joe was in a cross temper. This was so

much her normal state, that Joe and I would often, for weeks together,

be, as to our fingers, like monumental Crusaders as to their legs.

We were to have a superb dinner, consisting of a leg of pickled pork and

greens, and a pair of roast stuffed fowls. A handsome mince-pie had

been made yesterday morning (which accounted for the mincemeat not

being missed), and the pudding was already on the boil. These extensive

arrangements occasioned us to be cut off unceremoniously in respect of

breakfast; "for I ain't," said Mrs. Joe,--"I ain't a going to have

no formal cramming and busting and washing up now, with what I've got

before me, I promise you!"

So, we had our slices served out, as if we were two thousand troops on a

forced march instead of a man and boy at home; and we took gulps of milk

and water, with apologetic countenances, from a jug on the dresser. In

the meantime, Mrs. Joe put clean white curtains up, and tacked a new

flowered flounce across the wide chimney to replace the old one, and

uncovered the little state parlor across the passage, which was never

uncovered at any other time, but passed the rest of the year in a cool

haze of silver paper, which even extended to the four little white

crockery poodles on the mantel-shelf, each with a black nose and a

basket of flowers in his mouth, and each the counterpart of the other.

Mrs. Joe was a very clean housekeeper, but had an exquisite art of

making her cleanliness more uncomfortable and unacceptable than dirt

itself. Cleanliness is next to Godliness, and some people do the same by

their religion.




readonlinefreebook.com Copyright 2016 - 2024