aloud of that young creature, Was it
Gruffs and Tackletons the toymakers then, and Would it call at
Pastrycooks for wedding-cakes, and Did its mothers know the boxes when
its fathers brought them home; and so on.

"And that is really to come about!" said Dot. "Why, she and I were girls
at school together, John."

He might have been thinking of her, or nearly thinking of her, perhaps,
as she was in that same school-time. He looked upon her with a
thoughtful pleasure, but he made no answer.

"And he's as old! As unlike her!--Why, how many years older than you is
Gruff and Tackleton, John?"

"How many more cups of tea shall I drink to-night, at one sitting, than
Gruff and Tackleton ever took in four, I wonder?" replied John
good-humouredly, as he drew a chair to the round table, and began at
the cold ham. "As to eating, I eat but little; but that little I enjoy,
Dot."

Even this, his usual sentiment at meal-times, one of his innocent
delusions (for his appetite was always obstinate, and flatly
contradicted him), awoke no smile in the face of his little wife, who
stood among the parcels, pushing the cake-box slowly from her with her
foot, and never once looked, though her eyes were cast down too, upon
the dainty shoe she generally was so mindful of. Absorbed in thought,
she stood there, heedless alike of the tea and John (although he called
to her and rapped the table with his knife to startle her), until he
rose and touched her on the arm; when she looked at him for a moment,
and hurried to her place behind the tea-board, laughing at her
negligence. But not as she had laughed before. The manner and the music
were quite changed.

The Cricket, too, had stopped. Somehow, the room was not so cheerful as
it had been. Nothing like it.

"So, these are all the parcels, are they, John?" she said, breaking a
long silence, which the honest Carrier had devoted to the practical
illustration of one part of his favourite sentiment--certainly enjoying
what he ate, if it couldn't be admitted that he ate but little. "So
these are all the parcels, are they, John?"

"That's all," said John. "Why--no--I"--laying down his knife and fork,
and taking a long breath--"I declare--I've clean forgotten the old
gentleman!"

"The old gentleman?"

"In the cart," said John. "He was asleep among the straw, the last time
I saw him. I've very nearly remembered him, twice, since I came in; but
he went out of my head again. Halloa! Yahip there! R