Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: May 6, 2025
One day the little girl came to me here, having run all the way from the village, to say that Mrs. Grumbit had packed up a bundle of clothes and gone off to Liverpool by the coach.
Martin Rattler was a very bad boy. At least his aunt, Mrs. Dorothy Grumbit, said so; and certainly she ought to have known, if anybody should, for Martin lived with her, and was, as she herself expressed it, "the bane of her existence, the very torment of her life." No doubt of it whatever, according to Aunt Dorothy Grumbit's showing, Martin Rattler was "a remarkably bad boy."
Grumbit, after staring a few seconds at the old gentleman in surprise, said so, and begged to know what use it was of. "Oh, never mind, never mind. We merchants have strange fancies, and foreigners have curious tastes now and then. Please to make all my socks with a hitch like that in them all round, just above the ankle. It will form an ornamental ring.
So remarkable was this, that Martin made inquiry, and found that it was actually the grand-daughter of the old kitten, which was still alive and well; so he brought it back too, and formally installed it in the cottage along with its grandchild. There was a great house-warming, on the night of the day, in which Aunt Dorothy Grumbit was brought back.
That same afternoon he put on his broad-brimmed white hat, and, walking out to the village in which she lived, called upon the vicar, who was a particular and intimate friend of his. Having ascertained from the vicar that Mrs. Grumbit would not accept of charity, he said abruptly, "And why not, is she too proud?" "By no means," replied the vicar.
It was a lovely scene, such an one as causes the eye to brighten and the heart to melt as we gaze upon it, and think, perchance, of its Creator. Yes, it was a scene worth looking at; but Mrs Grumbit never looked at it, for the simple reason that she could not have seen it if she had. Half way across her own little parlour was the extent of her natural vision.
One day the little girl came to me here, having run all the way from the village, to say that Mrs Grumbit had packed up a bundle of clothes and gone off to Liverpool by the coach.
As for old Aunt Dorothy Grumbit, she listened when Martin spoke. When Martin was silent she became stone deaf! In the course of time Mr. Jollyboy made Martin his head clerk; and then, becoming impatient, he made him his partner off-hand.
Yes, to the unutterable joy of Martin, to the inexpressible delight of Mr Arthur Jollyboy and Barney, and to the surprise and complete discomfiture of the young doctor who shook his head and said, "There is no hope," Aunt Dorothy Grumbit recovered, and was brought back in health and in triumph to her old cottage at Ashford.
With a great deal of energy, and a revival of much of his former indignation, when he spoke of the kitten's sufferings, Martin recounted all the circumstances of the fight; during the recital of which Mrs Dorothy Grumbit took his hand in hers and patted it, gazing the while into his swelled visage, and weeping plentifully, but very silently.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking