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and low…spirited。 A hard frost too； or a fall of snow； was an
Event； and it seemed to do him good； somehow or other … it would
have been hard to say in what respect though； Toby！ So wind and
frost and snow； and perhaps a good stiff storm of hail； were Toby
Veck's red…letter days。
Wet weather was the worst； the cold； damp； clammy wet； that wrapped
him up like a moist great…coat … the only kind of great…coat Toby
owned； or could have added to his comfort by dispensing with。 Wet
days； when the rain came slowly； thickly； obstinately down； when
the street's throat； like his own； was choked with mist； when
smoking umbrellas passed and re…passed； spinning round and round
like so many teetotums； as they knocked against each other on the
crowded footway； throwing off a little whirlpool of uncomfortable
sprinklings； when gutters brawled and waterspouts were full and
noisy； when the wet from the projecting stones and ledges of the
church fell drip； drip； drip； on Toby； making the wisp of straw on
which he stood mere mud in no time； those were the days that tried
him。 Then； indeed； you might see Toby looking anxiously out from
his shelter in an angle of the church wall … such a meagre shelter
that in summer time it never cast a shadow thicker than a good…
sized walking stick upon the sunny pavement … with a disconsolate
and lengthened face。 But coming out； a minute afterwards； to warm
himself by exercise； and trotting up and down some dozen times； he
would brighten even then； and go back more brightly to his niche。
They called him Trotty from his pace； which meant speed if it
didn't make it。 He could have Walked faster perhaps； most likely；
but rob him of his trot； and Toby would have taken to his bed and
died。 It bespattered him with mud in dirty weather； it cost him a
world of trouble； he could have walked with infinitely greater
ease； but that was one reason for his clinging to it so
tenaciously。 A weak； small； spare old man； he was a very Hercules；
this Toby； in his good intentions。 He loved to earn his money。 He
delighted to believe … Toby was very poor； and couldn't well afford
to part with a delight … that he was worth his salt。 With a
shilling or an eighteenpenny message or small parcel in hand； his
courage always high； rose higher。 As he trotted on； he would call
out to fast Postmen ahead of him； to get out of the way； devoutly
believing that in the natural course of things he must inevitably
overtake and run them down； and he had perfect faith … not often
tested … in his being able to carry anything that man could lift。
Thus； even when he came out of his nook to warm himself on a wet
day； Toby trotted。 Making； with his leaky shoes； a crooked line of
slushy footprints in the mire； and blowing on his chilly hands and
rubbing them against each other； poorly defended from the searching
cold by threadbare mufflers of grey worsted； with a private
apartment only for the thumb； and a common room or tap for the rest
of the fingers； Toby； with his knees bent and his cane beneath his
arm； still trotted。 Falling out into the road to look up at the
belfry when the Chimes resounded； Toby trotted still。
He made this last excursion several times a day； for they were
company to him； and when he heard their voices； he had an interest
in glancing at their lodging…place； and thinking how they were
moved； and what hammers beat upon them。 Perhaps he was the more
curious about these Bells； because there were points of resemblance
between themselves and him。 They hung there； in all weathers； with
the wind and rain driving in upon them； facing only the outsides of
all those houses； never getting any nearer to the blazing fires
that gleamed and shone upon the windows； or came puffing out of the
chimney tops； and incapable of participation in any of the good
things that were constantly being handled； through the street doors
and the area railings； to prodigious cooks。 Faces came and went at
many windows： sometimes pretty faces； youthful faces； pleasant
faces： sometimes the reverse： but Toby knew no more （though he
often speculated on these trifles； standing idle in the streets）
whence they came； or where they went； or whether； when the lips
moved； one kind word was said of him in all the year； than did the
Chimes themselves。
Toby was not a casuist … that he knew of； at least … and I don't
mean to say that when he began to take to the Bells； and to knit up
his first rough acquaintance with them into something of a closer
and more delicate woof； he passed through these considerations one
by one； or held any formal review or great field…day in his
thoughts。 But what I mean to say； and do say is； that as the
functions of Toby's body； his digestive organs for example； did of
their own cunning； and by a great many operations of which he was
altogether ignorant； and the knowledge of which would have
astonished him very much； arrive at a certain end； so his mental
faculties； without his privity or concurrence； set all these wheels
and springs in motion； with a thousand others； when they worked to
bring about his liking for the Bells。
And though I had said his love； I would not have recalled the word；
though it would scarcely have expressed his complicated feeling。
For； being but a simple man； he invested them with a strange and
solemn character。 They were so mysterious； often heard and never
seen； so high up； so far off； so full of such a deep strong melody；
that he regarded them with a species of awe； and sometimes when he
looked up at the dark arched windows in the tower； he half expected
to be beckoned to by something which was not a Bell； and yet was
what he had heard so often sounding in the Chimes。 For all this；
Toby scouted with indignation a certain flying rumour that the
Chimes were haunted； as implying the possibility of their being
connected with any Evil thing。 In short； they were very often in
his ears； and very often in his thoughts； but always in his good
opinion； and he very often got such a crick in his neck by staring
with his mouth wide open； at the steeple where they hung； that he
was fain to take an extra trot or two； afterwards； to cure it。
The very thing he was in the act of doing one cold day； when the
last drowsy sound of Twelve o'clock； just struck； was humming like
a melodious monster of a Bee； and not by any means a busy bee； all
through the steeple！
'Dinner…time； eh！' said Toby； trotting up and down before the
church。 'Ah！'
Toby's nose was very red； and his eyelids were very red； and he
winked very much； and his shoulders were very near his ears； and
his legs were very stiff； and altogether he was evidently a long
way upon the frosty side of cool。
'Dinner…time； eh！' repeated Toby； using his right…hand muffler like
an infantine boxing…glove； and punishing his chest for being cold。
'Ah…h…h…h！'
He took a silent trot； after that； for a minute or two。
'There's nothing；' said Toby； breaking forth afresh … but here he
stopped short in his trot； and with a face of great interest and
some a