Holiday Romance, Charles Dickens [fantasy books to read .txt] 📗

‘O, these children are very wearing!’ said Mrs. Alicumpaine to Mrs. Orange.

‘Dear things! I dote upon them; but they ARE wearing,’ said Mrs. Orange to Mrs. Alicumpaine.

At last they did begin in a slow and melancholy way to slide about to the music; though even then they wouldn’t mind what they were told, but would have this partner, and wouldn’t have that partner, and showed temper about it. And they wouldn’t smile, - no, not on any account they wouldn’t; but, when the music stopped, went round and round the room in dismal twos, as if everybody else was dead.

‘O, it’s very hard indeed to get these vexing children to be entertained!’ said Mrs. Alicumpaine to Mrs. Orange.

‘I dote upon the darlings; but it is hard,’ said Mrs. Orange to Mrs. Alicumpaine.

They were trying children, that’s the truth. First, they wouldn’t sing when they were asked; and then, when everybody fully believed they wouldn’t, they would. ‘If you serve us so any more, my love,’ said Mrs. Alicumpaine to a tall child, with a good deal of white back, in mauve silk trimmed with lace, ‘it will be my painful privilege to offer you a bed, and to send you to it immediately.’

The girls were so ridiculously dressed, too, that they were in rags before supper. How could the boys help treading on their trains? And yet when their trains were trodden on, they often showed temper again, and looked as black, they did! However, they all seemed to be pleased when Mrs. Alicumpaine said, ‘Supper is ready, children!’ And they went crowding and pushing in, as if they had had dry bread for dinner.

‘How are the children getting on?’ said Mr. Orange to Mrs. Orange, when Mrs. Orange came to look after baby. Mrs. Orange had left baby on a shelf near Mr. Orange while he played at beggar-my- neighbour, and had asked him to keep his eye upon her now and then.

‘Most charmingly, my dear!’ said Mrs. Orange. ‘So droll to see their little flirtations and jealousies! Do come and look!’

‘Much obliged to you, my dear,’ said Mr. Orange; ‘but I don’t care about children myself.’

So Mrs. Orange, having seen that baby was safe, went back without Mr. Orange to the room where the children were having supper.

‘What are they doing now?’ said Mrs. Orange to Mrs. Alicumpaine.

‘They are making speeches, and playing at parliament,’ said Mrs. Alicumpaine to Mrs. Orange.

On hearing this, Mrs. Orange set off once more back again to Mr. Orange, and said, ‘James dear, do come. The children are playing at parliament.’

‘Thank you, my dear,’ said Mr. Orange, ‘but I don’t care about parliament myself.’

So Mrs. Orange went once again without Mr. Orange to the room where the children were having supper, to see them playing at parliament. And she found some of the boys crying, ‘Hear, hear, hear!’ while other boys cried ‘No, no!’ and others, ‘Question!’ ‘Spoke!’ and all sorts of nonsense that ever you heard. Then one of those tiresome fat boys who had stopped the doorway told them he was on his legs (as if they couldn’t see that he wasn’t on his head, or on his anything else) to explain, and that, with the permission of his honourable friend, if he would allow him to call him so (another tiresome boy bowed), he would proceed to explain. Then he went on for a long time in a sing-song (whatever he meant), did this troublesome fat boy, about that he held in his hand a glass; and about that he had come down to that house that night to discharge what he would call a public duty; and about that, on the present occasion, he would lay his hand (his other hand) upon his heart, and would tell honourable gentlemen that he was about to open the door to general approval. Then he opened the door by saying, ‘To our hostess!’ and everybody else said ‘To our hostess!’ and then there were cheers. Then another tiresome boy started up in sing-song, and then half a dozen noisy and nonsensical boys at once. But at last Mrs. Alicumpaine said, ‘I cannot have this din. Now, children, you have played at parliament very nicely; but parliament gets tiresome after a little while, and it’s time you left off, for you will soon be fetched.’

After another dance (with more tearing to rags than before supper), they began to be fetched; and you will be very glad to be told that the tiresome fat boy who had been on his legs was walked off first without any ceremony. When they were all gone, poor Mrs. Alicumpaine dropped upon a sofa, and said to Mrs. Orange, ‘These children will be the death of me at last, ma’am, - they will indeed!’

‘I quite adore them, ma’am,’ said Mrs. Orange; ‘but they DO want variety.’

Mr. Orange got his hat, and Mrs. Orange got her bonnet and her baby, and they set out to walk home. They had to pass Mrs. Lemon’s preparatory establishment on their way.

‘I wonder, James dear,’ said Mrs. Orange, looking up at the window, ‘whether the precious children are asleep!’

‘I don’t care much whether they are or not, myself,’ said Mr. Orange.

‘James dear!’

‘You dote upon them, you know,’ said Mr. Orange. ‘That’s another thing.’

‘I do,’ said Mrs. Orange rapturously. ‘O, I DO!’

‘I don’t,’ said Mr. Orange.

‘But I was thinking, James love,’ said Mrs. Orange, pressing his arm, ‘whether our dear, good, kind Mrs. Lemon would like them to stay the holidays with her.’

‘If she was paid for it, I daresay she would,’ said Mr. Orange.

‘I adore them, James,’ said Mrs. Orange, ‘but SUPPOSE we pay her, then!’

This was what brought that country to such perfection, and made it such a delightful place to live in. The grown-up people (that would be in other countries) soon left off being allowed any holidays after Mr. and Mrs. Orange tried the experiment; and the children (that would be in other countries) kept them at school as long as ever they lived, and made them do whatever they were told.

End of Project Gutenberg’s Etext of Holiday Romance, by Charles Dickens