|
Main
- books.jibble.org
My Books
- IRC Hacks
Misc. Articles
- Meaning of Jibble
- M4 Su Doku
- Computer Scrapbooking
- Setting up Java
- Bootable Java
- Cookies in Java
- Dynamic Graphs
- Social Shakespeare
External Links
- Paul Mutton
- Jibble Photo Gallery
- Jibble Forums
- Google Landmarks
- Jibble Shop
- Free Books
- Intershot Ltd
|
books.jibble.org
Previous Page
| Next Page
Page 5
"_Are they_?" said the Tailor emphatically.
He had a high respect for his mother, and did not like to contradict
her, but he held his own opinion, based upon personal experience; and
not being a metaphysician, did not understand that it is safer to found
opinions on principles than on experience, since experience may alter,
but principles cannot.
"Look at Tommy," he broke out suddenly. "That boy does nothing but
whittle sticks from morning till night. I have almost to lug him out of
bed o' mornings. If I send him an errand, he loiters; I'd better have
gone myself. If I set him to do anything, I have to tell him
everything; I could sooner do it myself. And if he does work, it's done
so unwillingly, with such a poor grace; better, far better, to do it
myself. What housework do the boys ever do but looking after the baby?
And this afternoon she was asleep in the cradle, and off they went, and
when she awoke, _I_ must leave my work to take her. _I_ gave her her
supper, and put her to bed. And what with what they want and I have to
get, and what they take out to play with and lose, and what they bring
in to play with and leave about, bairns give some trouble, Mother, and
I've not an easy life of it. The pay is poor enough when one can get
the work, and the work is hard enough when one has a clear day to do it
in; but housekeeping and bairn-minding don't leave a man much time for
his trade. No! no! Ma'am, the luck of the Trouts is gone, and 'Bairns
are a burden,' is the motto now. Though they are one's own," he muttered
to himself, "and not bad ones, and I did hope once would have been a
blessing."
"There's Johnnie," murmured the old lady, dreamily. "He has a face like
an apple."
"And is about as useful," said the Tailor. "He might have been
different, but his brother leads him by the nose."
His brother led him in as the Tailor spoke, not literally by his snub,
though, but by the hand. They were a handsome pair, this lazy couple.
Johnnie especially had the largest and roundest of foreheads, the
reddest of cheeks, the brightest of eyes, the quaintest and most
twitchy of chins, and looked altogether like a gutta-percha cherub in a
chronic state of longitudinal squeeze. They were locked together by two
grubby paws, and had each an armful of moss, which they deposited on
the floor as they came in.
"I've swept this floor once to-day," said the father, "and I'm not
going to do it again. Put that rubbish outside." "Move it, Johnnie!"
said his brother, seating himself on a stool, and taking out his knife
and a piece of wood, at which he cut and sliced; while the
apple-cheeked Johnnie stumbled and stamped over the moss, and scraped
it out on the doorstep, leaving long trails of earth behind him, and
then sat down also.
"And those chips the same," added the Tailor; "I will _not_ clear up the
litter you lads make."
"Pick 'em up, Johnnie," said Thomas Trout, junior, with an exasperated
sigh; and the apple tumbled up, rolled after the flying chips, and
tumbled down again.
"Is there any supper, Father?" asked Tommy.
"No, there is not, Sir, unless you know how to get it," said the
Tailor; and taking his pipe, he went out of the house.
"Is there really nothing to eat, Granny?" asked the boy.
"No, my bairn, only some bread for breakfast to-morrow."
"What makes Father so cross, Granny?"
"He's wearied, and you don't help him, my dear."
"What could I do, Grandmother?"
"Many little things, if you tried," said the old lady. "He spent
half-an-hour to-day, while you were on the moor, getting turf for the
fire, and you could have got it just as well, and he been at his work."
"He never told me," said Tommy.
"You might help me a bit just now, if you would, my laddie," said the
old lady coaxingly; "these bits of cloth want tearing into lengths, and
if you get 'em ready, I can go on knitting. There'll be some food when
this mat is done and sold."
Previous Page
| Next Page
|
|