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Xmas takeaway


NormanH
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"There never was such a goose. Bob said he didn't believe there ever was such

a goose cooked. Its tenderness and flavour, size and cheapness, were the themes

of universal admiration. Eked out by apple-sauce and mashed potatoes, it was a sufficient

dinner for the whole family; indeed, as Mrs Cratchit said with great delight (surveying

one small atom of a bone upon the dish), they hadn't ate it all at last. Yet every

one had had enough, and the youngest Cratchits in particular, were steeped in sage

and onion to the eyebrows. But now, the plates being changed by Miss Belinda, Mrs

Cratchit left the room alone -- too nervous to bear witnesses -- to take the pudding

up and bring it in.

Suppose it should not be done enough. Suppose it should break in turning out.

Suppose somebody should have got over the wall of the back-yard, and stolen it,

while they were merry with the goose -- a supposition at which the two young Cratchits

became livid. All sorts of horrors were supposed.

Hallo. A great deal of steam. The pudding was out of the copper. A smell like

a washing-day. That was the cloth. A smell like an eating-house and a pastrycook's

next door to each other, with a laundress's next door to that. That was the pudding.

In half a minute Mrs Cratchit entered -- flushed, but smiling proudly -- with the

pudding, like a speckled cannon-ball, so hard and firm, blazing in half of half-a-quartern

of ignited brandy, and bedight with Christmas holly stuck into the top.

Oh, a wonderful pudding. Bob Cratchit said, and calmly too, that he regarded

it as the greatest success achieved by Mrs Cratchit since their marriage. Mrs Cratchit

said that now the weight was off her mind, she would confess she had had her doubts

about the quantity of flour. Everybody had something to say about it, but nobody

said or thought it was at all a small pudding for a large family. It would have

been flat heresy to do so. Any Cratchit would have blushed to hint at such a thing.

At last the dinner was all done, the cloth was cleared, the hearth swept, and

the fire made up. The compound in the jug being tasted, and considered perfect,

apples and oranges were put upon the table, and a shovel-full of chestnuts on the

fire. Then all the Cratchit family drew round the hearth, in what Bob Cratchit called

a circle, meaning half a one; and at Bob Cratchit's elbow stood the family display

of glass. Two tumblers, and a custard-cup without a handle.

These held the hot stuff from the jug, however, as well as golden goblets would

have done; and Bob served it out with beaming looks, while the chestnuts on the

fire sputtered and cracked noisily. Then Bob proposed: `A Merry Christmas to us

all, my dears. God bless us.'"

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