'Come, come!' returned the Carrier, clapping his
sounding hands. 'Where's the pipe?'
'I quite forgot the pipe, John.'
'Forgot the pipe! Was such a wonder ever heard
of! She! Forgot the pipe!'
'I'll -- I'll fill it directly. It's soon done.'
But it was not so soon done, either. It lay in the
usual place -- the Carrier's dreadnought pocket -- with
the little pouch, her own work, from which she was
used to fill it; but her hand shook so, that she en-
tangled it (and yet her hand was small enough to
have come out easily, I am sure), and bungled ter-
ribly. The filling of the pipe and lighting it, those
little offices in which I have commended her discre-
tion, were vilely done, from first to last. During the
whole process, Tackleton stood looking on maliciously
with the half-closed eye; which, whenever it met hers
-- or caught it, for it can hardly be said to have ever
met another eye: rather being a kind of trap to snatch
it up -- augmented her confusion in a most remark-
able degree.
'Why, what a clumsy Dot you are, this afternoon!'
said John.
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