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'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 alarm； felt his nose carefully all the way up。 It was but a
little way （not being much of a nose） and he had soon finished。
'I thought it was gone；' said Toby； trotting off again。 'It's all
right； however。 I am sure I couldn't blame it if it was to go。 It
has a precious hard service of it in the bitter weather； and
precious little to look forward to； for I don't take snuff myself。
It's a good deal tried； poor creetur； at the best of times； for
when it DOES get hold of a pleasant whiff or so （which an't too
often） it's generally from somebody else's dinner； a…coming home
from the baker's。'
The reflection reminded him of that other reflection； which he had
left unfinished。
'There's nothing；' said Toby； 'more regular in its coming round
than dinner…time； and nothing less regular in its coming round than
dinner。 That's the great difference between 'em。 It's took me a
long time to find it out。 I wonder whether it would be worth any
gentleman's while； now； to buy that obserwation for the Papers； or
the Parliament！'
Toby was only joking； for he gravely shook his head in self…
depreciation。
'Why！ Lord！' said Toby。 'The Papers is full of obserwations as it
is； and so's the Parliament。 Here's last week's paper； now；'
taking a very dirty one from his pocket； and holding it from him at
arm's length； 'full of obserwations！ Full of obserwations！ I like
to know the news as well as any man；' said Toby； slowly； folding it
a little smaller； and putting it in his pocket again： 'but it
almost goes against the grain with me to read a paper now。 It
frightens me almost。 I don't know what we poor people are coming
to。 Lord send we may be coming to something better in the New Year
nigh upon us！'
'Why； father； father！' said a pleasant voice； hard by。
But Toby； not hearing it； continued to trot backwards and forwards：
musing as he went； and talking to himself。
'It seems as if we can't go right； or do right； or be righted；'
said Toby。 'I hadn't much schooling； myself； when I was young； and
I can't make out whether we have any business on the face of the
earth； or not。 Sometimes I think we must have … a little； and
sometimes I think we must be intruding。 I get so puzzled sometimes
that I am not even able to make up my mind whether there is any
good at all in us； or whether we are born bad。 We seem to be
dreadful things； we seem to give a deal of trouble； we are always
being complained of and guarded against。 One way or other； we fill
the papers。 Talk of a New Year！' said Toby； mournfully。 'I can
bear up as well as another man at most times； better than a good
many； for I am as strong as a lion； and all men an't； but supposing
it should really be that we have no right to a New Year … supposing
we really ARE intruding … '
'Why； father； father！' said the pleasant voice again。
Toby heard it this time； started； stopped； and shortening his
sight； which had been directed a long way off as seeking the
enlightenment in the very heart of the approaching year； found
himself face to face with his own child； and looking close into her
eyes。
Bright eyes they were。 Eyes that would bear a world of looking in；
before their depth was fathomed。 Dark eyes； that reflected back
the eyes which searched them； not flashingly； or at the owner's
will； but with a clear； calm； honest； patient radiance； claiming
kindred with that light which Heaven called into being。 Eyes that
were beautiful and true； and beaming with Hope。 With Hope so young
and fresh； with Hope so buoyant； vigorous； and bright； despite the
twenty years of work and poverty on which they had looked； that
they became a voice to Trotty Veck； and said： 'I think we have
some business here … a little！'
Trotty kissed the lips belonging to the eyes； and squeezed the
blooming face between his hands。
'Why； Pet；' said Trotty。 'What's to do？ I didn't expect you to…
day； Meg。'
'Neither did I expect to come； father；' cried the girl； nodding her
head and smiling as she spoke。 'But here I am！ And not alone； not
alone！'
'Why you don't mean to say；' observed Trotty； looking curiously at
a covered basket which she carried in her hand； 'that you … '
'Smell it； father dear；' said Meg。 'Only smell it！'
Trotty was going to lift up the cover at once； in a great hurry；
when she gaily interposed her hand。
'No； no； no；' said Meg； with the glee of a child。 'Lengthen it out
a little。 Let me just lift up the corner； just the lit…tle ti…ny
cor…ner； you know；' said Meg； suiting the action to the word with
the utmost gentleness； and speaking very softly； as if she were
afraid of being overheard by something inside the basket； 'there。
Now。 What's that？'
Toby took the shortest possible sniff at the edge of the basket；
and cried out in a rapture：
'Why； it's hot！'
'It's burning hot！' cried Meg。 'Ha； ha； ha！ It's scalding hot！'
'Ha； ha； ha！' roared Toby； with a sort of kick。 'It's scalding
hot！'
'But what is it； father？' said Meg。 'Come。 You haven't guessed
what it is。 And you must guess what it is。 I can't think of
taking it out； till you guess what it is。 Don't be in such a
hurry！ Wait a minute！ A little bit more of the cover。 Now
guess！'
Meg was in a perfect fright lest he should guess right too soon；
shrinking away； as she held the basket towards him； curling up her
pretty shoulders； stopping her ear with her hand； as if by so doing
she could keep the right word out of Toby's lips； and laughing
softly the whole time。
Meanwhile Toby； putting a hand on each knee； bent down his nose to
the basket； and took a long inspiration at the lid； the grin upon
his withered face expanding in the process； as if he were inhaling
laughing gas。
'Ah！ It's very nice；' said Toby。 'It an't … I suppose it an't
Polonies？'
'No； no； no！' cried Meg； delighted。 'Nothing like Polonies！'
'No；' said Toby； after another sniff。 'It's … it's mellower than
Polonies。 It's very nice。 It improves every moment。 It's too
decided for Trotters。 An't it？'
Meg was in an ecstasy。 He could not have gone wider of the mark
than Trotters … except Polonies。
'Liver？' said Toby； communing with himself。 'No。 There's a
mildness about it that don't answer to liver。 Pettitoes？ No。 It
an't faint enough for pettitoes。 It wants the stringiness of
Cocks' heads。 And I know it an't sausages。 I'll tell you what it
is。 It's chitterlings！'
'No； it an't！' cried Meg； in a burst of delight。 'No； it an't！'
'Why； what am I a…thinking of！' said Toby； suddenly recovering a
position as near the perpendicular as it was possible for him to
assume。 'I shall forget my own name next。 It's tripe！'
Tripe it was； and Meg； in high joy； protested he should say； in
half a minute more； it was the best tripe ever stewed。
'And so；' said Meg； busying herself exultingly with the basket；
'I'll lay the cloth at once； father； for I have brought the tripe
in a basin；