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Updated: September 23, 2025
There must be something wrong with them both, or else with my clock," answered Mrs Bowldler with a glance up at the timepiece. "But twenty-five past four, I take you to witness! and I keep it five minutes fast on principle." "There is something wrong," Fancy assured her. "If you'll take my advice, you'll go in and look injured."
He harked back to it several times in the course of his perusal, and confessed to himself that it looked very well. But Mrs Bowldler, too, had slept indifferently, if her eyes which were red and tear-swollen might be taken as evidence. Her air, as she brought in the dishes, spoke of sorrow rather than of anger.
Mrs Bowldler, albeit much vexed in mind, deferred solving the problem, and was rewarded with good luck as procrastinators too often are in this world. Dinner-time arrived, but Captain Hocken did not. She served the goose whole and carried it in to Captain Hunken. "Eh?" said 'Bias, as she removed the cover. "What about about Cap'n Hocken?" "He have not arrove." 'Bias ground his teeth.
"I beg your pardon, ma'am; but it really does seem as if I never reach home nowadays without you meet me at the foot of the stairs, givin' notice. What's wrong this time?" "If you drive me to it, sir," said Mrs Bowldler in an aggrieved tone, "it's Captain Hunken's parrot."
"Which," said Mrs Bowldler in magnificent anacoluthon, "if we see it as we ought, this bein' no ordinary occasion, but in a manner of speakin' one of Potentates and Powers and of our feelin's in connection therewith; by which I allude to our beloved Queen, whom Gawd preserve! Gawd bless her! "Not they! Ho, not, if I may use the expression by a long chalk!"
Certainly the lad's looks did not take the casual glance. He was coltish and angular, with timid, hare-like eyes. The sleeves of his coat were folded back above his wrists, and in his hand he dangled, by a string of elastic, a girl's sailor hat. "Healthy?" asked Captain Tobias. As if at a military command, the boy put out his tongue. "La!" exclaimed Mrs Bowldler, "look at that for manners!"
"Ay, an' no doubt we'll pick up a taste for it again indoors of an evenin', when the winter comes 'round." "Tell ye what," suggested Cai. "To-morrow, I'll take it off to John Peter and ask him to put a brass plate on the lid, with an inscription. He's clever at such things, an' terrible dilatory. . . . An' to-night Mrs Bowldler can have it in the kitchen.
"There's a a screw loose somewhere in that bird. Didn't I tell you only the night before last that Mrs Bowldler couldn't get along with him?" "You did," admitted 'Bias, his tone ominously calm. "But you didn' specify: not when I told you I was goin' to bring the bird up here to Rilla." "No, I didn': for, in the first place, I couldn', not knowin' what language the bird used."
Many a time in distant ports they had talked together of Christmas in England and of Christmas fare the goose, the plum-pudding. They had promised themselves a rare dinner to celebrate their first Christmas in England, and it had come to what? To a dull meal eaten apart, served by a Mrs Bowldler on the verge of tears, and by a Palmerston frankly ravaged by woe.
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