“May I go with you, father?” asked his son, briskly.

“No, you mayn’t. I’m a goingas your mother knowsa

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

Charles Dickens ElecBook Classics

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 all things to lay especial stress on the discharge

of that maternal function so affectingly and delicately indicated by

his other parent.

Thus the evening wore away with the Cruncher family, until

Young Jerry was ordered to bed, and his mother, laid under

similar injunctions, obeyed them. Mr. Cruncher beguiled the

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earlier watches of the night with solitary pipes, and did not start

upon his excursion until one o’clock. Towards that small and

ghostly hour, he rose up from his chair, took a key out of his

pocket, opened a locked cupboard, and brought forth a sack, a

crowbar of convenient size, a rope and chain, and other fishing