Yet it was a sight that might well arrest wandering
thoughts: Eppie, with the rippling radiance of her hair and the
whiteness of her rounded chin and throat set off by the dark-blue
cotton gown, laughing merrily as the kitten held on with her four
claws to one shoulder, like a design for a jug-handle, while Snap on
the right hand and puss on the other put up their paws towards a
morsel which she held out of the reach of both- Snap occasionally
desisting in order to remonstrate with the cat by a cogent worrying
growl on the greediness and futility of her conduct; till Eppie
relented, caressed them both, and divided the morsel between them.
But at last Eppie, glancing at the clock, checked the play, and
said, 'Oh, daddy, you're wanting to go into the sunshine to smoke your
pipe. But I must clear away first, so as the house may be tidy when
godmother comes. I'll make haste- I won't be long.'
Silas had taken to smoking a pipe daily during the last two
years, having been strongly urged to it by the sages of Raveloe, as
a practice 'good for the fits'; and this advice was sanctioned by Dr
Kimble, on the ground that it was as well to try what could do no
harm- a principle which was made to answer for a great deal of work in
that gentleman's medical practice. Silas did not highly enjoy smoking,
and often wondered how his neighbours could be so fond of it; but a
humble sort of acquiescence in what was held to be good, had become
a strong habit of that new self which had been developed in him
since he had found Eppie on his hearth: it had been the only clue
his bewildered mind could hold by in cherishing this young life that
had been sent to him out of the darkness into which his gold had
departed.
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