《Captures》 - 免费有声读物

4 §

“’Ere you are!” said the blind man. “Best I can do under the circs. ’Ad a bit o’ trouble with the cross; got it too ’eavy, I’m afraid; but thought you’d rather carry it.”

“Quite a masterpiece!”

“Speaking serious?” said the blind man. “You could improve it with a box o’ colours; make it more ’uman-like.”

“I’ll do that.”

“I wouldn’t touch the face, nor the cross—leave ’em wooden; but the hair and the dress, and the blood from the crown o’ thorns might be all the better for a bit o’ brightenin’. How’s the man that corrupted ’Adleyburg?”

Late—299 opened the book.

“‘ ... Goodson looked him over, like as if he was hunting for a place on him that he could despise the most; then he says: “So you are the Committee of Enquiry, are you?” Sawlsberry said that was about what he was. “H’m! Do they require particulars, or do you reckon a kind of general answer will do?” “If they require particulars I will come back, Mr. Goodson; I will take the general answer first.” “Very well, then; tell them to go to hell—I reckon that’s general enough. And I’ll give you some advice, Sawlsberry; when you come back for the particulars, fetch a basket to carry what’s left of yourself home in.”’”

The blind man chuckled.

“Ah! I like that Mark Twain. Nice sense o’ humour—nothin’ sickly.”

“Bark and quinine, eh?”

“Bark and bite,” said the blind man. “What do you think of ’uman nature yourself?”

“Little or nothing.”

“And yet there’s a bit of all right about it, too. Look at you and me; we got our troubles; and ’ere we are—jolly as sandboys! Be self-sufficient, or you’ve got to suffer. That’s what you feel, ain’t it? Am I mistook, or did you nod?”

“I did. Your eyes look as if they saw.”

“Bright, are they? You and me could ’ave sat down and cried ’em out any time—couldn’t we? But we didn’t. That’s why I say there’s a bit of all right about us. Put the world from you, and keep your pecker up. When you can’t think worse of things than what you do, you’ll be ’appy—not before. That’s right, ain’t it?”

“Quite.”

“Took me five years. ’Ow long were you about it?”

“Nearly three.”

“Well, you ’ad the advantage of birth and edjucation; I can tell that from your voice—got a thin, mockin’ sound. I started in a barber’s shop; got mine in an accident with some ’aircurlers. What I miss most is not bein’ able to go fishin’. No one to take me. Don’t you miss cuttin’ people up?”

“No.”

“Well, I suppose a gent never gets a passion; I’d a perfect passion for fishin’. Never missed Sunday, wet or fine. That’s why I learned this carvin’—must ’ave an ’obby to go on with. Are you goin’ to write your ’istory? Am I wrong, or did you shake your ’ead?”

“I did. My hobby is watching the show go by.”

“That might ’ave suited me at one time—always liked to see the river flowin’ down. I’m a bit of a philosopher myself. You ain’t, I should say.”

“Why not?”

“Well, I’ve a fancy you want life to come to heel too much—misfortune of bein’ a gent, perhaps. Am I right?”

Late—299 closed the book and rose. “Pride!” he said.

“Ah!” said the blind man, groping with his eyes, “that’s meat and drink to you. Thought as much. Come again, if I don’t worry you.”

“And take you fishing?”

“Reelly? You will? Shake ’ands.”

Late—299 put out his hand. The blind man’s groped up and found it....