`` Or for a fire-box either , '' observed Caleb in deep contemplation , `` what a model ! Unscrew his head to put the matches in ; turn him heels up ` ards for the light ; and what a fire-box for a gentleman 's mantel-shelf , just as he stands ! '' `` Not half ugly enough , '' said Tackleton . `` Nothing in him at all . Come ! Bring that box ! All right now , I hope ? '' `` Oh , quite gone ! Quite gone ! '' said the little woman , waving him hurriedly away . `` Good night ! '' `` Good night ! '' said Tackleton . `` Good night , John Peerybingle ! Take care how you carry that box , Caleb . Let it fall , and I 'll murder you ! Dark as pitch , and weather worse than ever , eh ? Good night ! '' So , with another sharp look round the room , he went out at the door ; followed by Caleb with the wedding-cake on his head . The Carrier had been so much astounded by his little wife , and so busily engaged in soothing and tending her , that he had scarcely been conscious of the Stranger 's presence until now , when he again stood there , their only guest .
`` He do n't belong XXXXX them , you see , '' said John .
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