A Christmas Carol (Clandestine Classics) by Em Woods & Charles Dickens

Author:Em Woods & Charles Dickens [Woods, Em & Dickens, Charles]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Erotic Romance eBooks Erotica Total-E-Bound eBooks Books Romance
Goodreads: 16142610
Publisher: Total E-Bound
Published: 2012-12-03T05:00:00+00:00

A CHRISTMAS CAROL Charles Dickens & Em Woods

57

There never was such a goose. Bob said he didn’t believe there ever was such a goose

cooked. Its tenderness and flavour, size and cheapness, were the themes of universal

admiration. Eked out by apple-sauce and mashed potatoes, it was a sufficient dinner for the whole family. Indeed, as Mrs Cratchit said with great delight, surveying one small atom of a bone upon the dish, they hadn’t ate it all at last! Yet everyone had had enough, and the

youngest Cratchits in particular, were steeped in sage and onion to the eyebrows! But now,

the plates being changed by Miss Belinda, Mrs Cratchit left the room alone—too nervous to

bear witnesses—to take the pudding up and bring it in.

Suppose it should not be done enough! Suppose it should break in turning out! Suppose

somebody should have got over the wall of the back-yard, and stolen it, while they were

merry with the goose—a supposition at which the two young Cratchits became livid! All

sorts of horrors were supposed.

Hallo! A great deal of steam! The pudding was out of the copper. A smell like a

washing-day! That was the cloth. A smell like an eating-house and a pastrycook’s next door

to each other, with a laundress’s next door to that! That was the pudding! In half a minute Mrs Cratchit entered—flushed, but smiling proudly—with the pudding, like a speckled

cannon-ball, so hard and firm, blazing in half of half-a-quartern of ignited brandy, and

bedight with Christmas holly stuck into the top.

Oh, a wonderful pudding! Bob Cratchit said, and calmly too, that he regarded it as the

greatest success achieved by Mrs Cratchit since their marriage. Mrs Cratchit said that now

the weight was off her mind, she would confess she had had her doubts about the quantity of flour. Everybody had something to say about it, but nobody said or thought it was at all a

small pudding for a large family. It would have been flat heresy to do so. Any Cratchit

would have blushed to hint at such a thing.

At last the dinner was all done, the cloth was cleared, the hearth swept, and the fire

made up. The compound in the jug being tasted, and considered perfect, apples and oranges

were put upon the table, and a shovel-full of chestnuts on the fire. Then all the Cratchit

family drew round the hearth, in what Bob Cratchit called a circle, meaning half a one, and at Bob Cratchit’s elbow stood the family display of glass. Two tumblers, and a custard-cup

without a handle.

These held the hot stuff from the jug, however, as well as golden goblets would have

done, and Bob served it out with beaming looks, while the chestnuts on the fire sputtered

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