Support the Monkey! Tell All your Friends and Teachers |
||||
939 the wall--somewhat ostentatiously, as if to call all men to witness that they were not worth the taking. The dark square lumbering bedsteads seemed built for restless dreams; the musty hangings seemed to creep in scanty folds together, whispering among themselves, when rustled by the wind, their trembling knowledge of the tempting wares that lurked within the dark and tight-locked closets. From out the most spare and hungry room in all this spare and hungry house there came, one morning, the tremulous tones of old Gride’s voice, as it feebly chirruped forth the fag end of some forgotten song, of which the burden ran: Ta--ran--tan--too, Throw the old shoe, And may the wedding be lucky! which he repeated, in the same shrill quavering notes, again and again, until a violent fit of coughing obliged him to desist, and to pursue in silence, the occupation upon which he was engaged. This occupation was, to take down from the shelves of a worm- eaten wardrobe a quantity of frowsy garments, one by one; to subject each to a careful and minute inspection by holding it up against the light, and after folding it with great exactness, to lay it on one or other of two little heaps beside him. He never took two articles of clothing out together, but always brought them forth, singly, and never failed to shut the wardrobe door, and turn the key, between each visit to its shelves. ‘The snuff-coloured suit,’ said Arthur Gride, surveying a threadbare coat. ‘Did I look well in snuff-colour? Let me think.’ |