attention to an eminent man, is not so much to the purpose, as
that he made a short call upon his medical adviser—a
distinguished surgeon—on his way back.
Young Jerry relieved his father with dutiful interest, and
reported No job in his absence. The bank closed, the ancient
clerks came out, the usual watch was set, and Mr. Cruncher and
his son went home to tea.
“Now, I tell you where it is!” said Mr. Cruncher to his wife, on
entering. “If, as a honest tradesman, my wentures goes wrong
tonight, I shall make sure that you’ve been praying agin me, and I
shall work you for it just the same as if I seen you do it.”
The dejected Mrs. Cruncher shook her head.
“Why, you’re at it afore my face!” said Mr. Cruncher, with signs
of angry apprehension.
“I am saying nothing.”
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A Tale of Two Cities
“Well, then; don’t meditate nothing. You might as well flop as
meditate. You may as well go again me one way as another. Drop
it altogether.”
“Yes, Jerry.”
“Yes, Jerry,” repeated Mr. Cruncher sitting down to tea. “Ah! It
is yes, Jerry. That’s about it. You may say yes, Jerry.”
Mr. Cruncher had no particular meaning in these sulky
corroborations, but made use of them, as people not unfrequently
do, to express general ironical dissatisfaction.
“You and your yes, Jerry,” said Mr. Cruncher, taking a bite out
of his bread-and-butter, and seeming to help it down with a large
invisible oyster out of his saucer. “Ah! I think so. I believe you.”
“You were going out tonight?” asked his decent wife, when he
took another bite.
“Yes, I am.”
“May I go with you, father?” asked his son, briskly.
“No, you mayn’t. I’m a going—as your mother knows—a
fishing. That’s where I’m going to. Going a fishing.”
“Your fishing-rod gets rayther rusty; don’t it, father?”
“Never you mind.”
“Shall you bring any fish home, father?”
“If I don’t, you’ll have short commons, tomorrow,” returned
that gentleman, shaking his head; “that’s questions enough for
you; I ain’t a going out, till you’ve been long a-bed.”
He devoted himself during the remainder of the evening to
keeping a most vigilant watch on Mrs. Cruncher, and sullenly
holding her in conversation that she might be prevented from
meditating any petitions to his disadvantage. With this view, he
urged his son to hold her in conversation also, and led the
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A Tale of Two Cities
unfortunate woman a hard life by dwelling on any causes of
complaint he could bring against her, rather than he would leave
her for a moment to her own reflections. The devoutest person
could have rendered no greater homage to the efficacy of an
honest prayer than he did in this distrust of his wife. It was as if a
professed unbeliever in ghosts should be frightened by a ghost
story.
“And mind you!” said Mr. Cruncher. “No games tomorrow! If I,
as a honest tradesman, succeed in providing a jinte of meat or two,
none of your not touching of it, and sticking to bread. If I, as a
honest tradesman, am able to provide a little beer, none of your
declaring on water. When you go to Rome, do as Rome does. Rome
will be a ugly customer to you, if you don’t. I’m your Rome, you
know.”
Then he began grumbling again:
“With you flying into the face of your own wittles and drink! I
don’t know how scarce you mayn’t make the wittles and drink
here, by your flopping tricks and your unfeeling conduct. Look at
your boy: he is your’n, ain’t he? He’s as thin as a lath. Do you call
yourself a mother, and not know that a mother’s first duty is to
blow her boy out?”
This touched young Jerry on a tender place; who adjured his
mother to perform her first duty, and whatever else she did or
neglected, above"};
