It was, Mr.Goodchild went on to say, in cross-examination, what you might call a primitive place.Large? No, it was not large.Who ever expected it would be large? Shape? What a question to ask! No shape.What sort of a street? Why, no street.Shops? Yes, of course (quite indignant).How many? Who ever went into a place to count the shops? Ever so many.Six? Perhaps.A library? Why, of course (indignant again). Good collection of books?Most likely - couldn't say-had seen nothing in it but a pair of scales.Any reading-room? Of course, there was a reading- room.Where? Where! why, over there.Where was over there?Why, THERE!Let Mr.Idle carry his eye tothat bit of waste ground above high-water mark, where the rank grass and loose stones were most in a litter; and he would see a sort of long, ruinous brick loft, next door to a ruinous brick out-house, which loft had a ladder outside, to get up by.That was the reading-room, and if Mr.Idle didn't like the idea of a weaver's shuttle throbbing under a reading-room, that was his look out.HE was not to dictate, Mr.Goodchild supposed (indignant again), to the company.
'By-the-by,' Thomas Idle observed; 'the company?'
Well! (Mr.Goodchild went on to report) very nice company.Where were they? Why, there they were.Mr.Idle could see the tops of their hats, he supposed.What? Those nine straw hats again, five gentlemen's and four ladies'? Yes, to be sure.Mr.Goodchild hoped the company were not to be expected to wear helmets, to please Mr.Idle.
Beginning to recover his temper at about this point, Mr.Goodchild voluntarily reported that if you wanted to be primitive, you could be primitive here, and that if you wanted to be idle, you could be idle here.In the course of some days, he added, that there were three fishing-boats, but no rigging, and that there were plenty of fishermen who never fished.That they got their living entirely by looking at the ocean.What nourishment they looked out of it to support their strength, he couldn't say; but, he supposed it was some sort of Iodine.The place was full of their children, who were always upside down on the public buildings (two small bridges over the brook), and always hurting themselves or one another, so that their wailings made more continual noise in the air than could have been got in a busy place.The houses people lodged in, were nowhere in particular, and were in capital accordance with the beach; being all more or less cracked and damaged as its shells were, and all empty - as its shells were.Among them, was an edifice of destitute appearance, with a number of wall-eyed windows in it, looking desperately out to Scotland as if for help, which said it was a Bazaar (and it ought to know), and where you might buy anything you wanted - supposing what you wanted, was a little camp-stool or a child's wheelbarrow.The brook crawled or stopped between the houses and the sea, and the donkey was always running away, and when he got into the brook he was pelted out with stones, which neverhit him, and which always hit some of the children who were upside down on the public buildings, and made their lamentations louder.This donkey was the public excitement of Allonby, and was probably supported at the public expense.
The foregoing descriptions, delivered in separate items, on separate days of adventurous discovery, Mr.Goodchild severally wound up, by looking out of window, looking in again, and saying, 'But there is the sea, and here are the shrimps - let us eat 'em.'
There were fine sunsets at Allonby when the low flat beach, with its pools of water and its dry patches, changed into long bars of silver and gold in various states of burnishing, and there were fine views - on fine days - of the Scottish coast.But, when it rained at Allonby, Allonby thrown back upon its ragged self, became a kind of place which the donkey seemed to have found out, and to have his highly sagacious reasons for wishing to bolt from.Thomas Idle observed, too, that Mr.Goodchild, with a noble show of disinterestedness, became every day more ready to walk to Maryport and back, for letters; and suspicions began to harbour in the mind of Thomas, that his friend deceived him, and that Maryport was a preferable place.
Therefore, Thomas said to Francis on a day when they had looked at the sea and eaten the shrimps, 'My mind misgives me, Goodchild, that you go to Maryport, like the boy in the story-book, to ask IT to be idle with you.'
