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Updated: May 2, 2025
But, to Thomas Idle, this contagion was so very unacceptable an incident of the situation, that he struck on the fourth day, and requested to be moved. 'This place fills me with a dreadful sensation, said Thomas, 'of having something to do. Remove me, Francis. 'Where would you like to go next? was the question of the ever- engaging Goodchild.
A long, white, bony hand appeared through the opening, gently pushing the door, which was prevented from working freely on its hinges by a fold in the carpet under it. 'That hand! Look at that hand, Doctor! said Mr. Goodchild, touching him. At the same moment, the Doctor looked at Mr. Goodchild, and whispered to him, significantly: 'Hush! he has come back.
Goodchild and the landlord were getting farther and farther ahead of him. He saw them cross the stream and disappear round a projection on its banks. He heard them shout the moment after as a signal that they had halted and were waiting for him.
The Assistant took his hat, and passed like a shadow to the door. 'Lorn! said the Doctor, calling after him. He returned. 'Mr. Goodchild will keep me company till you come home. Don't hurry. Excuse my calling you back. 'It is not, said the Assistant, with his former smile, 'the first time you have called me back, dear Doctor. With those words he went away. 'Mr.
Goodchild hears this dreadful intimation, and is not in the least impressed by it. He marches for the top that is never to be found, as if he was the Wandering Jew, bound to go on for ever, in defiance of everything. The landlord faithfully accompanies him.
Goodchild, with a twist of his hand. 'Proceed, said Thomas Idle. It was, Mr. Goodchild went on to say, in cross-examination, what you might call a primitive place. Large? No, it was not large. Who ever expected it would be large? Shape? What a question to ask! No shape. What sort of a street? Why, no street. Shops? How many? Who ever went into a place to count the shops? Ever so many. Six?
Goodchild, to the great relief of his fellow-traveller, took another view of the case, and backed Mr. Idle's proposal to descend Carrock at once, at any hazard the rather as the running stream was a sure guide to follow from the mountain to the valley.
Goodchild plunges his hand under his wet coat, draws out a little red morocco-case, opens it, and displays to the view of his companions a neat pocket-compass. The north is found, the point at which the farm-house is situated is settled, and the descent begins.
Between Francis and Thomas, however, there was this difference of character: Goodchild was laboriously idle, and would take upon himself any amount of pains and labour to assure himself that he was idle; in short, had no better idea of idleness than that it was useless industry.
He did not bend himself to sit, as other people do, but seemed to sink bolt upright, as if in water, until the chair stopped him. 'My friend, Mr. Idle, said Goodchild, extremely anxious to introduce a third person into the conversation. 'I am, said the old man, without looking at him, 'at Mr. Idle's service. 'If you are an old inhabitant of this place, Francis Goodchild resumed. 'Yes.
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