HomeCharles DickensThe Battle of Life

The Battle of Life. Charles Dickens

Then, he strolled towards the garden-paling, and took a look at the dahlias. They looked over at him, with a helpless drowsy hanging of their heads: which bobbed again, as the heavy drops of wet dripped off them.

′You must be looked after,′ said Benjamin. ′Memorandum, not to forget to tell her so. She′s a long time coming!′

Mr. Britain′s better half seemed to be by so very much his better half, that his own moiety of himself was utterly cast away and helpless without her.

′She hadn′t much to do, I think,′ said Ben. ′There were a few little matters of business after market, but not many. Oh! here we are at last!′

A chaise-cart, driven by a boy, came clattering along the road: and seated in it, in a chair, with a large well-saturated umbrella spread out to dry behind her, was the plump figure of a matronly woman, with her bare arms folded across a basket which she carried on her knee, several other baskets and parcels lying crowded around her, and a certain bright good nature in her face and contented awkwardness in her manner, as she jogged to and fro with the motion of her carriage, which smacked of old times, even in the distance. Upon her nearer approach, this relish of by-gone days was not diminished; and when the cart stopped at the Nutmeg-Grater door, a pair of shoes, alighting from it, slipped nimbly through Mr. Britain′s open arms, and came down with a substantial weight upon the pathway, which shoes could hardly have belonged to any one but Clemency Newcome.

In fact they did belong to her, and she stood in them, and a rosy comfortable-looking soul she was: with as much soap on her glossy face as in times of yore, but with whole elbows now, that had grown quite dimpled in her improved condition.

′You′re late, Clemmy!′ said Mr. Britain.

′Why, you see, Ben, I′ve had a deal to do!′ she replied, looking busily after the safe removal into the house of all the packages and baskets: ′eight, nine, ten - where′s eleven? Oh! my basket′s eleven! It′s all right. Put the horse up, Harry, and if he coughs again give him a warm mash to-night. Eight, nine, ten. Why, where′s eleven? Oh! forgot, it′s all right. How′s the children, Ben?′

′Hearty, Clemmy, hearty.′

′Bless their precious faces!′ said Mrs. Britain, unbonneting her own round countenance (for she and her husband were by this time in the bar), and smoothing her hair with her open hands. ′Give us a kiss, old man!′

Mr. Britain promptly complied.

′I think,′ said Mrs. Britain, applying herself to her pockets and drawing forth an immense bulk of thin books and crumpled papers: a very kennel of dogs′-ears: ′I′ve done everything. Bills all settled - turnips sold - brewer′s account looked into and paid - ′bacco pipes ordered - seventeen pound four, paid into the Bank - Doctor Heathfield′s charge for little Clem - you′ll guess what that is - Doctor Heathfield won′t take nothing again, Ben.′

′I thought he wouldn′t,′ returned Ben.

′No. He says whatever family you was to have, Ben, he′d never put you to the cost of a halfpenny. Not if you was to have twenty.′

Mr. Britain′s face assumed a serious expression, and he looked hard at the wall.

′An′t it kind of him?′ said Clemency.

′Very,′ returned Mr. Britain. ′It′s the sort of kindness that I wouldn′t presume upon, on any account.

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Pages:  21  22  23  24  25  26  27  28  29  30  31  32  33  34  35  36  37  38  39  40 
Overall 51 pages


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