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Updated: May 23, 2025
Jeremiah Cruncher, sitting on his stool in Fleet-street with his grisly urchin beside him, a vast number and variety of objects in movement were every day presented.
Lorry's eye caught his, he was taken with that peculiar kind of short cough requiring the hollow of a hand before it, which is seldom, if ever, known to be an infirmity attendant on perfect openness of character. "Jerry," said Mr. Lorry. "Come here." Mr. Cruncher came forward sideways, with one of his shoulders in advance of him. "What have you been, besides a messenger?"
"It would be perfectly beastly having a step-father, I tell you!" cried Erebus fiercely. "It isn't altogether what we like there's Mum," said the Terror. "She does have a rotten time of it always being hard up and never going anywhere. And, after all, we shouldn't mind Sir James when we got used to him." "But we should! And look how we stopped the Cruncher!"
"Sir James isn't like the Cruncher at all," said the Terror. "All stepfathers are alike; and they're beastly!" cried Erebus. "Now, it's no good your getting yourself obstinate about it," said the Terror firmly. "That won't be of any use at all, if they've made up their minds. But what's bothering me is what that old cat meant by saying that the Morgans were rovers."
Cruncher, who was all in a tremble, and who spoke with an ashy and solemn visage, "them poor things well out o' this, never no more will I do it, never no more!" "I am quite sure, Mr. Cruncher," returned Miss Pross, "that you never will do it again, whatever it is, and I beg you not to think it necessary to mention more particularly what it is."
Well, that 'ud be imposing, too, on Tellson's. For you cannot sarse the goose and not the gander. And here's Mrs. Cruncher, or leastways wos in the Old England times, and would be to-morrow, if cause given, a floppin' again the business to that degree as is ruinating stark ruinating! Whereas them medical doctors' wives don't flop catch 'em at it!
As if the estrangement between them had come of any culpability of hers. As if Mr. Lorry had not known it for a fact, years ago, in the quiet corner in Soho, that this precious brother had spent her money and left her! Cruncher, touching him on the shoulder, hoarsely and unexpectedly interposed with the following singular question: "I say! Might I ask the favour?
Stryver then called his few witnesses, and Mr. Cruncher had next to attend while Mr. Attorney-General turned the whole suit of clothes Mr. Stryver had fitted on the jury, inside out; showing how Barsad and Cly were even a hundred times better than he had thought them, and the prisoner a hundred times worse.
O my poor darlings!" "I go so far as to say, miss, moreover," proceeded Mr. Cruncher, with a most alarming tendency to hold forth as from a pulpit "and let my words be took down and took to Mrs. Cruncher through yourself that wot my opinions respectin' flopping has undergone a change, and that wot I only hope with all my heart as Mrs. Cruncher may be a flopping at the present time."
You've got a religious mother, you have, my boy: going and flopping herself down, and praying that the bread-and-butter may be snatched out of the mouth of her only child." "And what do you suppose, you conceited female," said Mr. Cruncher, with unconscious inconsistency, "that the worth of your prayers may be? Name the price that you put your prayers at!" "They only come from the heart, Jerry.
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