The Charles Dickens Christmas MEGAPACK™

by Charles Dickens

  Seen a good deal? Why, of course he had. I should say so, he could assure me, if I only knew about a twentieth part of what had come in his way. Why, it would be easier for him, he expected, to tell what he hadn’t seen than what he had. Ah! A deal, it would.

  What was the curiousest thing he had seen? Well! He didn’t know. He couldn’t momently name what was the curiousest thing he had seen—unless it was a Unicorn, and he see him once at a Fair. But supposing a young gentleman not eight year old was to run away with a fine young woman of seven, might I think that a queer start? Certainly. Then that was a start as he himself had had his blessed eyes on, and he had cleaned the shoes they run away in—and they was so little that he couldn’t get his hand into ’em.

  Master Harry Walmers’ father, you see, he lived at the Elmses, down away by Shooter’s Hill there, six or seven miles from Lunnon. He was a gentleman of spirit, and good-looking, and held his head up when he walked, and had what you may call Fire about him. He wrote poetry, and he rode, and he ran, and he cricketed, and he danced, and he acted, and he done it all equally beautiful. He was uncommon proud of Master Harry as was his only child; but he didn’t spoil him neither. He was a gentleman that had a will of his own and a eye of his own, and that would be minded. Consequently, though he made quite a companion of the fine bright boy, and was delighted to see him so fond of reading his fairy books, and was never tired of hearing him say my name is Norval, or hearing him sing his songs about Young May Moons is beaming love, and When he as adores thee has left but the name, and that; still he kept the command over the child, and the child was a child, and it’s to be wished more of ’em was!

  How did Boots happen to know all this? Why, through being under-gardener. Of course he couldn’t be under-gardener, and be always about, in the summer-time, near the windows on the lawn, a mowing, and sweeping, and weeding, and pruning, and this and that, without getting acquainted with the ways of the family. Even supposing Master Harry hadn’t come to him one morning early, and said, “Cobbs, how should you spell Norah, if you was asked?” and then began cutting it in print all over the fence.

  He couldn’t say he had taken particular notice of children before that; but really it was pretty to see them two mites a going about the place together, deep in love. And the courage of the boy! Bless your soul, he’d have throwed off his little hat, and tucked up his little sleeves, and gone in at a Lion, he would, if they had happened to meet one, and she had been frightened of him. One day he stops, along with her, where Boots was hoeing weeds in the gravel, and says, speaking up, “Cobbs,” he says, “I like you.” “Do you, sir? I’m proud to hear it.” “Yes, I do, Cobbs. Why do I like you, do you think, Cobbs?” “Don’t know, Master Harry, I am sure.” “Because Norah likes you, Cobbs.” “Indeed, sir? That’s very gratifying.” “Gratifying, Cobbs? It’s better than millions of the brightest diamonds to be liked by Norah.” “Certainly, sir.” “You’re going away, ain’t you, Cobbs?” “Yes, sir.” “Would you like another situation, Cobbs?” “Well, sir, I shouldn’t object, if it was a good Inn.” “Then, Cobbs,” says he, “you shall be our Head Gardener when we are married.” And he tucks her, in her little sky-blue mantle, under his arm, and walks away.

  Boots could assure me that it was better than a picter, and equal to a play, to see them babies, with their long, bright, curling hair, their sparkling eyes, and their beautiful light tread, a rambling about the garden, deep in love. Boots was of opinion that the birds believed they was birds, and kept up with ’em, singing to please ’em. Sometimes they would creep under the Tulip-tree, and would sit there with their arms round one another’s necks, and their soft cheeks touching, a reading about the Prince and the Dragon, and the good and bad enchanters, and the king’s fair daughter. Sometimes he would hear them planning about having a house in a forest, keeping bees and a cow, and living entirely on milk and honey. Once he came upon them by the pond, and heard Master Harry say, “Adorable Norah, kiss me, and say you love me to distraction, or I’ll jump in head-foremost.” And Boots made no question he would have done it if she hadn’t complied. On the whole, Boots said it had a tendency to make him feel as if he was in love himself—only he didn’t exactly know who with.

  “Cobbs,” said Master Harry, one evening, when Cobbs was watering the flowers, “I am going on a visit, this present Midsummer, to my grandmamma’s at York.”

  “Are you indeed, sir? I hope you’ll have a pleasant time. I am going into Yorkshire, myself, when I leave here.”

  “Are you going to your grandmamma’s, Cobbs?”

  “No, sir. I haven’t got such a thing.”

  “Not as a grandmamma, Cobbs?”

  “No, sir.”

  The boy looked on at the watering of the flowers for a little while, and then said, “I shall be very glad indeed to go, Cobbs—Norah’s going.”

  “You’ll be all right then, sir,” says Cobbs, “with your beautiful sweetheart by your side.”

  “Cobbs,” returned the boy, flushing, “I never let anybody joke about it, when I can prevent them.”

  “It wasn’t a joke, sir,” says Cobbs, with humility—“wasn’t so meant.”

  “I am glad of that, Cobbs, because I like you, you know, and you’re going to live with us.—Cobbs!”

  “Sir.”

  “What do you think my grandmamma gives me when I go down there?”

  “I couldn’t so much as make a guess, sir.”

  “A Bank of England five-pound note, Cobbs.”

  “Whew!” says Cobbs, “that’s a spanking sum of money, Master Harry.”

  “A person could do a good deal with such a sum of money as that—couldn’t a person, Cobbs?”

  “I believe you, sir!”

  “Cobbs,” said the boy, “I’ll tell you a secret. At Norah’s house, they have been joking her about me, and pretending to laugh at our being engaged—pretending to make game of it, Cobbs!”

  “Such, sir,” says Cobbs, “is the depravity of human natur.”

  The boy, looking exactly like his father, stood for a few minutes with his glowing face towards the sunset, and then departed with, “Good-night, Cobbs. I’m going in.”

  If I was to ask Boots how it happened that he was a-going to leave that place just at that present time, well, he couldn’t rightly answer me. He did suppose he might have stayed there till now if he had been anyways inclined. But, you see, he was younger then, and he wanted change. That’s what he wanted—change. Mr. Walmers, he said to him when he gave him notice of his intentions to leave, “Cobbs,” he says, “have you anythink to complain of? I make the inquiry because if I find that any of my people really has anythink to complain of, I wish to make it right if I can.” “No, sir,” says Cobbs; “thanking you, sir, I find myself as well sitiwated here as I could hope to be anywheres. The truth is, sir, that I’m a-going to seek my fortun’.” “O, indeed, Cobbs!” he says; “I hope you may find it.” And Boots could assure me—which he did, touching his hair with his bootjack, as a salute in the way of his present calling—that he hadn’t found it yet.

  Well, sir! Boots left the Elmses when his time was up, and Master Harry, he went down to the old lady’s at York, which old lady would have given that child the teeth out of her head (if she had had any), she was so wrapped up in him. What does that Infant do—for Infant you may call him and be within the mark—but cut away from that old lady’s with his Norah, on a expedition to go to Gretna Green and be married!

  Sir, Boots was at this identical Holly-Tree Inn (having left it several times since to better himself, but always come back through one thing or another), when, one summer afternoon, the coach drives up, and out of the coach gets them two children. The Guard says to our Governor, “I don’t quite make out these little passengers, but the young gentleman’s words was, that they was to be brought here.” The young gentleman gets out; hands his lady out; gives the Guard something for himself; says to our Governor, “We’re to stop here to-night, please. Sitting-room and two
bedrooms will be required. Chops and cherry-pudding for two!” and tucks her, in her sky-blue mantle, under his arm, and walks into the house much bolder than Brass.

  Boots leaves me to judge what the amazement of that establishment was, when these two tiny creatures all alone by themselves was marched into the Angel—much more so, when he, who had seen them without their seeing him, give the Governor his views of the expedition they was upon. “Cobbs,” says the Governor, “if this is so, I must set off myself to York, and quiet their friends’ minds. In which case you must keep your eye upon ’em, and humour ’em, till I come back. But before I take these measures, Cobbs, I should wish you to find from themselves whether your opinion is correct.” “Sir, to you,” says Cobbs, “that shall be done directly.”

  So Boots goes up-stairs to the Angel, and there he finds Master Harry on a e-normous sofa—immense at any time, but looking like the Great Bed of Ware, compared with him—a drying the eyes of Miss Norah with his pocket-hankecher. Their little legs was entirely off the ground, of course, and it really is not possible for Boots to express to me how small them children looked.

  “It’s Cobbs! It’s Cobbs!” cries Master Harry, and comes running to him, and catching hold of his hand. Miss Norah comes running to him on t’other side and catching hold of his t’other hand, and they both jump for joy.

  “I see you a getting out, sir,” says Cobbs. “I thought it was you. I thought I couldn’t be mistaken in your height and figure. What’s the object of your journey, sir?—Matrimonial?”

  “We are going to be married, Cobbs, at Gretna Green,” returned the boy. “We have run away on purpose. Norah has been in rather low spirits, Cobbs; but she’ll be happy, now we have found you to be our friend.”

  “Thank you, sir, and thank you, miss,” says Cobbs, “for your good opinion. Did you bring any luggage with you, sir?”

  If I will believe Boots when he gives me his word and honour upon it, the lady had got a parasol, a smelling-bottle, a round and a half of cold buttered toast, eight peppermint drops, and a hair-brush—seemingly a doll’s. The gentleman had got about half a dozen yards of string, a knife, three or four sheets of writing-paper folded up surprising small, a orange, and a Chaney mug with his name upon it.

  “What may be the exact natur of your plans, sir?” says Cobbs.

  “To go on,” replied the boy—which the courage of that boy was something wonderful!—“in the morning, and be married to-morrow.”

  “Just so, sir,” says Cobbs. “Would it meet your views, sir, if I was to accompany you?”

  When Cobbs said this, they both jumped for joy again, and cried out, “Oh, yes, yes, Cobbs! Yes!”

  “Well, sir,” says Cobbs. “If you will excuse my having the freedom to give an opinion, what I should recommend would be this. I’m acquainted with a pony, sir, which, put in a pheayton that I could borrow, would take you and Mrs. Harry Walmers, Junior, (myself driving, if you approved,) to the end of your journey in a very short space of time. I am not altogether sure, sir, that this pony will be at liberty to-morrow, but even if you had to wait over to-morrow for him, it might be worth your while. As to the small account here, sir, in case you was to find yourself running at all short, that don’t signify; because I’m a part proprietor of this inn, and it could stand over.”

  Boots assures me that when they clapped their hands, and jumped for joy again, and called him “Good Cobbs!” and “Dear Cobbs!” and bent across him to kiss one another in the delight of their confiding hearts, he felt himself the meanest rascal for deceiving ’em that ever was born.

  “Is there anything you want just at present, sir?” says Cobbs, mortally ashamed of himself.

  “We should like some cakes after dinner,” answered Master Harry, folding his arms, putting out one leg, and looking straight at him, “and two apples—and jam. With dinner we should like to have toast-and-water. But Norah has always been accustomed to half a glass of currant wine at dessert. And so have I.”

  “It shall be ordered at the bar, sir,” says Cobbs; and away he went.

  Boots has the feeling as fresh upon him at this minute of speaking as he had then, that he would far rather have had it out in half-a-dozen rounds with the Governor than have combined with him; and that he wished with all his heart there was any impossible place where those two babies could make an impossible marriage, and live impossibly happy ever afterwards. However, as it couldn’t be, he went into the Governor’s plans, and the Governor set off for York in half an hour.

  The way in which the women of that house—without exception—every one of ’em—married and single—took to that boy when they heard the story, Boots considers surprising. It was as much as he could do to keep ’em from dashing into the room and kissing him. They climbed up all sorts of places, at the risk of their lives, to look at him through a pane of glass. They was seven deep at the keyhole. They was out of their minds about him and his bold spirit.

  In the evening, Boots went into the room to see how the runaway couple was getting on. The gentleman was on the window-seat, supporting the lady in his arms. She had tears upon her face, and was lying, very tired and half asleep, with her head upon his shoulder.

  “Mrs. Harry Walmers, Junior, fatigued, sir?” says Cobbs.

  “Yes, she is tired, Cobbs; but she is not used to be away from home, and she has been in low spirits again. Cobbs, do you think you could bring a biffin, please?”

  “I ask your pardon, sir,” says Cobbs. “What was it you—?”

  “I think a Norfolk biffin would rouse her, Cobbs. She is very fond of them.”

  Boots withdrew in search of the required restorative, and when he brought it in, the gentleman handed it to the lady, and fed her with a spoon, and took a little himself; the lady being heavy with sleep, and rather cross. “What should you think, sir,” says Cobbs, “of a chamber candlestick?” The gentleman approved; the chambermaid went first, up the great staircase; the lady, in her sky-blue mantle, followed, gallantly escorted by the gentleman; the gentleman embraced her at her door, and retired to his own apartment, where Boots softly locked him up.

  Boots couldn’t but feel with increased acuteness what a base deceiver he was, when they consulted him at breakfast (they had ordered sweet milk-and-water, and toast and currant jelly, overnight) about the pony. It really was as much as he could do, he don’t mind confessing to me, to look them two young things in the face, and think what a wicked old father of lies he had grown up to be. Howsomever, he went on a lying like a Trojan about the pony. He told ’em that it did so unfortunately happen that the pony was half clipped, you see, and that he couldn’t be taken out in that state, for fear it should strike to his inside. But that he’d be finished clipping in the course of the day, and that to-morrow morning at eight o’clock the pheayton would be ready. Boots’s view of the whole case, looking back on it in my room, is, that Mrs. Harry Walmers, Junior, was beginning to give in. She hadn’t had her hair curled when she went to bed, and she didn’t seem quite up to brushing it herself, and its getting in her eyes put her out. But nothing put out Master Harry. He sat behind his breakfast-cup, a tearing away at the jelly, as if he had been his own father.

  After breakfast, Boots is inclined to consider that they drawed soldiers—at least, he knows that many such was found in the fire-place, all on horseback. In the course of the morning, Master Harry rang the bell—it was surprising how that there boy did carry on—and said, in a sprightly way, “Cobbs, is there any good walks in this neighbourhood?”

  “Yes, sir,” says Cobbs. “There’s Love Lane.”

  “Get out with you, Cobbs!”—that was that there boy’s expression—“you’re joking.”

  “Begging your pardon, sir,” says Cobbs, “there really is Love Lane. And a pleasant walk it is, and proud shall I be to show it to yourself and Mrs. Harry Walmers, Junior.”

  “Norah, dear,” said Master Harry, “this is curious. We really ought to see Love Lane. Put on your bonnet, my sweetest darling, and we
will go there with Cobbs.”

  Boots leaves me to judge what a Beast he felt himself to be, when that young pair told him, as they all three jogged along together, that they had made up their minds to give him two thousand guineas a year as head-gardener, on accounts of his being so true a friend to ’em. Boots could have wished at the moment that the earth would have opened and swallowed him up, he felt so mean, with their beaming eyes a looking at him, and believing him. Well, sir, he turned the conversation as well as he could, and he took ’em down Love Lane to the water-meadows, and there Master Harry would have drowned himself in half a moment more, a getting out a water-lily for her—but nothing daunted that boy. Well, sir, they was tired out. All being so new and strange to ’em, they was tired as tired could be. And they laid down on a bank of daisies, like the children in the wood, leastways meadows, and fell asleep.

  Boots don’t know—perhaps I do—but never mind, it don’t signify either way—why it made a man fit to make a fool of himself to see them two pretty babies a lying there in the clear still sunny day, not dreaming half so hard when they was asleep as they done when they was awake. But, Lord! when you come to think of yourself, you know, and what a game you have been up to ever since you was in your own cradle, and what a poor sort of a chap you are, and how it’s always either Yesterday with you, or else To-morrow, and never To-day, that’s where it is!

  Well, sir, they woke up at last, and then one thing was getting pretty clear to Boots, namely, that Mrs. Harry Walmerses, Junior’s, temper was on the move. When Master Harry took her round the waist, she said he “teased her so;” and when he says, “Norah, my young May Moon, your Harry tease you?” she tells him, “Yes; and I want to go home!”

  A biled fowl, and baked bread-and-butter pudding, brought Mrs. Walmers up a little; but Boots could have wished, he must privately own to me, to have seen her more sensible of the woice of love, and less abandoning of herself to currants. However, Master Harry, he kept up, and his noble heart was as fond as ever. Mrs. Walmers turned very sleepy about dusk, and began to cry. Therefore, Mrs. Walmers went off to bed as per yesterday; and Master Harry ditto repeated.