snapping even less near to a dispute than inthe cases just mentioned. The little Skratdjs, like some otherchildren, were under the unfortunate delusion that it sounds clever tohear little boys and girls snap each other up with smart sayings, andold and rather vulgar play upon words, such as:
"I'll give you a Christmas box. Which ear will you have it on?"
"I won't stand it."
"Pray take a chair."
"You shall have it to-morrow."
"To-morrow never comes."
And so if a visitor kindly began to talk to one of the children, anotherwas sure to draw near and "take up" all the first child's answers, withsmart comments, and catches that sounded as silly as they were tiresomeand impertinent.
And ill-mannered as this was, Mr and Mrs Skratdj never put a stop toit. Indeed, it was only a caricature of what they did themselves. Butthey often said, "We can't think how it is the children are alwayssquabbling!"
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THE SKRATDJ'S DOG AND THE HOT-TEMPERED GENTLEMAN.
It is wonderful how the state of mind of a whole household is influencedby the heads of it. Mr Skratdj was a very kind master, and MrsSkratdj was a very kind mistress, and yet their servants lived in aperpetual fever of irritability that just fell short of discontent.They jostled each other on the back stairs, said sharp things in thepantry, and kept up a perennial warfare on the subject of the duty ofthe sexes with the general man-servant. They gave warning on theslightest provocation.
The very dog was infected by the snapping mania. He was not a bravedog, he was not a vicious dog, and no high-breeding sanctioned hispretensions to arrogance. But like his owners, he had contracted a badhabit, a trick, which made him the pest of all timid visitors, andindeed of all visitors whatsoever.
The moment anyone approached the house, on certain occasions when he wasspoken to, and often in no traceable connection with any cause at all,Snap the mongrel would rush out, and bark in his little sharpvoice--"Yap! yap! yap!" If the visitor made a stand, he would boundaway sideways on his four little legs; but the moment the visitor wenton his way again, Snap was at his heels--"Yap! yap! yap!" He barked atthe milkman, the butcher's boy, and the baker, though he saw them everyday. He never got used to the washerwoman, and she never got used tohim. She said he "put her in mind of that there black dog in thePilgrim's Progress." He sat at the gate in summer, and yapped at everyvehicle and every pedestrian who ventured to pass on the high road. Henever but once had the chance of barking at burglars; and then, thoughhe barked long and loud, nobody got up, for they said, "It's only Snap'sway." The Skratdjs lost a silver teapot, a Stilton cheese, and twoelectro christening mugs, on this occasion; and Mr and Mrs Skratdjdispute who it was who discouraged reliance on Snap's warning to thepresent day.
One Christmas-time, a certain hot-tempered gentleman came to visit theSkratdjs. A tall, sandy, energetic young man, who carried his own bagfrom the railway. The bag had been crammed rather than packed, afterthe wont of bachelors; and you could see where the heel of a bootdistended the leather, and where the bottle of shaving-cream lay.
As he came up to the house, out came Snap as usual--"Yap! yap! yap!"Now the gentleman was very fond of dogs, and had borne this greetingsome dozen of times from Snap, who for his part knew the visitor quiteas well as the washerwoman, and rather better than the butcher's boy.The gentleman had good, sensible, well-behaved dogs of his own, and wasgreatly disgusted with Snap's conduct. Nevertheless he spoke friendlyto him; and Snap, who had had many a bit from his plate, could not helpstopping for a minute to lick his hand. But no sooner did the gentlemanproceed on his way, than Snap flew at his heels in the usual fashion--
"Yap! Yap! Yap!"
On which the gentleman--being hot-tempered, and one of those people withwhom it is (as they say) a word and a blow, and the blow first--made adash at Snap, and Snap taking to his heels, the gentleman flung hiscarpet-bag after him. The bottle of shaving-cream hit upon a stone andwas smashed. The heel of the boot caught Snap on the back, and sent himsquealing to the kitchen. And he never barked at that gentleman again.
If the gentleman disapproved of Snap's conduct, he still less liked thecontinual snapping of the Skratdj family themselves. He was an oldfriend of Mr and Mrs Skratdj, however, and knew that they were reallyhappy together, and that it was only a bad habit which made themconstantly contradict each other. It was in allusion to their realaffection for each other, and their perpetual disputing, that he calledthem the "Snapping Turtles."
When the war of words waxed hottest at the dinner-table between his hostand hostess, he would drive his hands through his shock of sandy hair,and say, with a comical glance out of his umber eyes, "Don't flirt, myfriends. It makes a bachelor feel awkward."
And neither Mr nor Mrs Skratdj could help laughing.
With the little Skratdjs his measures were more vigorous. He was veryfond of children, and a good friend to them. He grudged no time ortrouble to help them in their games and projects, but he would nottolerate their snapping up each other's words in his presence. He wasmuch more truly kind than many visitors, who think it polite to smile atthe sauciness and forwardness which ignorant vanity leads children sooften to "shew off" before strangers. These civil acquaintances onlyabuse both children and parents behind their backs, for the very badhabits which they help to encourage.
The hot-tempered gentleman's treatment of his young friends was verydifferent. One day he was talking to Polly, and making some kindinquiries about her lessons, to which she was replying in a quiet andsensible fashion, when up came Master Harry, and began to display hiswit by comments on the conversation, and by snapping at andcontradicting his sister's remarks, to which she retorted; and the usualsnap-dialogue went on as usual.
"Then you like music," said the hot-tempered gentleman.
"Yes, I like it very much," said Polly.
"Oh, do you?" Harry broke in. "Then what are you always crying over itfor?"
"I'm not always crying over it."
"Yes, you are."
"No, I'm not. I only cry sometimes, when I stick fast."
"Your music must be very sticky, for you're always stuck fast."
"Hold your tongue!" said the hot-tempered gentleman.
With what he imagined to be a very waggish air, Harry put out histongue, and held it with his finger and thumb. It was unfortunate thathe had not time to draw it in again before the hot-tempered gentlemangave him a stinging box on the ear, which brought his teeth rathersharply together on the tip of his tongue, which was bitten inconsequence.
"It's no use _speaking_," said the hot-tempered gentleman, driving hishands through his hair.
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Children are like dogs, they are very good judges of their real friends.Harry did not like the hot-tempered gentleman a bit the less because hewas obliged to respect and obey him; and all the children welcomed himboisterously when he arrived that Christmas which we have spoken of inconnection with his attack on Snap.
It was on the morning of Christmas Eve that the china punch bowl wasbroken. Mr Skratdj had a warm dispute with Mrs Skratdj as to whetherit had been kept in a safe place; after which both had a brisk encounterwith the housemaid, who did not know how it happened; and she, flouncingdown the back passage, kicked Snap; who forthwith flew at the gardeneras he was bringing in the horse-radish for the beef; who steppingbackwards trode upon the cat; who spat and swore, and went up the pumpwith her tail as big as a fox's brush.
To avoid this domestic scene, the hot-tempered gentleman withdrew to thebreakfast-room and took up a newspaper. By-and-by, Harry and Polly camein, and they were soon snapping comfortably over their own affairs in acorner.
The hot-tempered gentleman's umber eyes had been looking over the top ofhis newspaper at them for some time, before he called, "Harry, my boy!"
And Harry came up to him.
"Shew
me your tongue, Harry," said he.
"What for?" said Harry; "you're not a doctor."
"Do as I tell you," said the hot-tempered gentleman; and as Harry sawhis hand moving, he put his tongue out with all possible haste. Thehot-tempered gentleman sighed. "Ah!" he said in depressed tones; "Ithought so!--Polly, come and let me look at yours."
Polly, who had crept up during this process, now put out hers. But thehot-tempered gentleman looked gloomier still, and shook his head.
"What is it?" cried both the children. "What do you mean?" And theyseized the tips of their tongues in their fingers, to feel forthemselves.
But the hot-tempered gentleman went slowly out of the room withoutanswering;
Snap-Dragons; Old Father Christmas Page 3
