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Updated: June 17, 2025
But as this might be considered ungenteel, I'll think of it merely observing that when the three were all safely settled in the cart, and the basket containing the Veal-and-Ham Pie and other delicacies, which Mrs. Peerybingle always carried when she visited the blind girl, was stowed away, they jogged on for some little time in silence.
"I am sorry to disturb you but a word directly." "I'm going to deal," returned the Carrier. "It's a crisis." "It is," said Tackleton. "Come here, man!" There was that in his pale face which made the other rise immediately, and ask him, in a hurry, what the matter was. "Hush! John Peerybingle," said Tackleton, "I am sorry for this. I am indeed. I have been afraid of it.
So, no wonder. 'I wish you wouldn't call me Dot, John. I don't like it, said Mrs. Peerybingle: pouting in a way that clearly showed she DID like it, very much. 'Why what else are you? returned John, looking down upon her with a smile, and giving her waist as light a squeeze as his huge hand and arm could give.
Let but one of these tid-bits be associated directly with the fanciful beings introduced in the gradual unfolding of the incidents, and it might remain there untouched, Thus, for example, when the Carrier's arrival at his home came to be mentioned, and the Reader related how John Peerybingle, being much taller, as well as much older than his wife, little Dot, "had to stoop a long way down to kiss her" the words that followed thereupon were happily not omitted: "but she was worth the trouble, six foot six with the lumbago might have done it."
Mrs. Peerybingle, going out into the raw twilight, and clicking over the wet stones in a pair of pattens that worked innumerable rough impressions of the first proposition in Euclid all about the yard Mrs. Peerybingle filled the kettle at the water-butt.
But, as this implied the approach of some new visitor, Caleb, postponing his study from the life to a more convenient season, shouldered the round box, and took a hurried leave. He might have spared himself the trouble, for he met the visitor upon the threshold. 'Oh! You are here, are you? Wait a bit. I'll take you home. John Peerybingle, my service to you. More of my service to your pretty wife.
Wherever he went, somebody or other might have been heard to cry, "Halloa! here's Boxer!" and out came that somebody forthwith, accompanied by at least two or three other somebodies, to give John Peerybingle and his pretty wife Good day.
As to a chair, or anything of that kind for helping Mrs. Peerybingle into the cart, you know very little of John, if you think that was necessary. Before you could have seen him lift her from the ground, there she was in her place, fresh and rosy, saying, "John! How can you? Think of Tilly!"
Peerybingle's fingers, first of all turned topsy-turvy, and then, with an ingenious pertinacity deserving of a better cause, dived sideways in down to the very bottom of the kettle. And the hull of the Royal George has never made half the monstrous resistance to coming out of the water which the lid of that kettle employed against Mrs. Peerybingle before she got it up again.
But, as this implied the approach of some new visitor, Caleb, postponing his study from the life to a more convenient season, shouldered the round box, and took a hurried leave. He might have spared himself the trouble, for he met the visitor upon the threshold. "Oh! You are here, are you? Wait a bit. I'll take you home. John Peerybingle, my service to you. More of my service to your pretty wife.
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