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There was no one at present to restrain him when he worried Mrs Gummidge. The tabby daily grew thinner and sadder-eyed. The parrot grew daily more blase. He sneered more and more bitterly, and his eyelid, when closed, struck a chill to the soul of the raven. At first the pups were unhappy. They missed their master. But they were young, and flies were getting plentiful in the studio.
'Yes, yes, very ready. I am sorry it should be along of me that you're so ready. 'Along o' you! It an't along o' you! said Mr. Peggotty. 'Don't ye believe a bit on it. 'Yes, yes, it is, cried Mrs. Gummidge. 'I know what I am. I know that I am a lone lorn creetur', and not only that everythink goes contrary with me, but that I go contrary with everybody. Yes, yes.
You can waste a hundred pounds' worth of manure on them, and it only makes them more stupid than they were before. One of our fields a wizened-looking eleven- acre strip bordering the Fyfield road he has christened Mrs. Gummidge: it seems to feel everything more than any other field. From whatever point of the compass the wind blows that field gets the most harm from it.
We made no more provision for growing older, than we did for growing younger. We were the admiration of Mrs. Gummidge and Peggotty, who used to whisper of an evening when we sat, lovingly, on our little locker side by side, 'Lor! wasn't it beautiful! Mr. Peggotty smiled at us from behind his pipe, and Ham grinned all the evening and did nothing else.
But as I turned on my heel I stole a glance at the girl and I saw that she was struggling hard to keep her composure. The sun was shining brightly but the world looked dark and black to my eyes. As soon as the excitement of the meeting was over Gummidge and I gave the factor a coherent story of our adventures; and the narrative brought a grave and troubled expression to his face.
Towards 1 am Mr Clifford's conversation had become incoherent. But he continued to drink toasts. He drank Yvonne's health five times, he pledged Rowden and Gethryn and everybody else he could think of, down to Mrs Gummidge and each separate kitten, and finally pledged himself. By that time he had reached the lachrymose state. Tears, it seemed, did him good.
Missis Gummidge has worked like a I doen't know what Missis Gummidge an't worked like, said Mr. Peggotty, looking at her, at a loss for a sufficiently approving simile. Mrs. Gummidge, leaning on her basket, made no observation. 'Theer's the very locker that you used to sit on, 'long with Em'ly! said Mr. Peggotty, in a whisper. 'I'm a-going to carry it away with me, last of all.
We need a means of escape from the infinite, from the maze of this incalculable life, from the burden and the mystery of a world where all things "go contrairy," as Mrs. Gummidge used to say. Some people find the escape in novels that move faithfully to that happy ending which the tangled skein of life denies us.
Gummidge; 'I'm a lone lorn creetur', and she used to be a'most the only thing that didn't go contrary with me. Mrs. Gummidge, whimpering and shaking her head, applied herself to blowing the fire. Mr.
"Tu-whit, tu-whoo." Oh, bother you. You ought to be a Daily Mail placard. No doubt the owl is quite happy in his way. Louis XV. expressed the owlish philosophy when he said, "Let us amuse ourselves by making ourselves miserable." I have no doubt the wretched creature did amuse himself after his fashion. I have always thought that, secretly, Mrs. Gummidge had a roaring time.
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