While occupied with her knitting, she sat in a high-backed chair in a very small deep window, through which the sun streamed nearly the whole day; and out of which there was the most charming imaginable view of the gardens and orchards of the villagers, with a little dancing brook in the midst, and the green fields of the farmers beyond, studded with sheep and cattle and knolls of woodland, and bounded in the far distance by the bright blue sea.  It was a lovely scene, such an one as causes the eye to brighten and the heart to melt as we gaze upon it, and think, perchance, of its Creator.

Yes, it was a scene worth looking at; but Mrs. Grumbit never looked at it, for the simple reason that she could not have seen it if she had.  Half way across her own little parlour was the extent of her natural vision.  By the aid of spectacles and a steady concentrated effort, she could see the fire-place at the other end of the room; and the portrait of her deceased husband, who had been a sea-captain; and the white kitten that usually sat on the rug before the fire.  To be sure she saw them very indistinctly.  The picture was a hazy blue patch, which was the captain’s coat; with a white patch down the middle of it, which was his waistcoat; and a yellow ball on the top of it, which was his head.  It was rather an indistinct and generalized view, no doubt; but she saw it, and that was a great comfort.

CHAPTER II

IN DISGRACE

Fire was the cause of Martin’s getting into disgrace at school for the first time; and this is how it happened.

“Go and poke the fire, Martin Rattler,” said the school-master, “and put on a bit of coal, and see that you don’t send the sparks flying about the floor.”

Martin sprang with alacrity to obey; for he was standing up with the class at the time, and was glad of the temporary relaxation.  He stirred the fire with great care, and put on several pieces of coal very slowly, and rearranged them two or three times; after which he stirred the fire a little more, and examined it carefully to see that it was all right; but he did not seem quite satisfied, and was proceeding to re-adjust the coals when Bob Croaker, one of the big boys, who was a bullying, ill-tempered fellow, and had a spite against Martin, called out,—­

“Please, sir, Rattler’s playin’ at the fire.”

“Come back to your place, sir!” cried the master, sternly.

Martin returned in haste, and resumed his position in the class.  As he did so he observed that his fore-finger was covered with soot.  Immediately a smile of glee overspread his features; and, while the master was busy with one of the boys, he drew his black finger gently down the forehead and nose of the boy next to him.

“What part of the earth was peopled by the descendants of Ham?” cried the master, pointing to the dux.

“Shem!” shrieked a small boy near the foot of the class.