‘ I don’t know, sir,’ returned Caleb in a whisper. ‘Never see him before, in all my life. A beautiful figure for a nut-cracker; quite a new model. With a screw-jaw opening down into his waistcoat, he’d be lovely.’
‘ Not ugly enough,’ said Tackleton.
‘ Or for a firebox, either,’ observed Caleb, in deep contemplation, ‘what a model! Unscrew his head to put the matches in; turn him heels up’ards for the light; and what a firebox for a gentleman’s mantel-shelf, just as he stands!’
‘ Not half ugly enough,’ said Tackleton. ‘Nothing in him at all! Come! Bring that box! All right now, I hope?’
‘ Oh quite gone! Quite gone!!’ said the little woman, waving him hurriedly away. ‘Good night!’
‘ Good night,’ said Tackleton. ‘Good night, John Peerybingle! Take care how you carry that b
