Instinctively, though foolishly, I scanned the gray skies for any trace of a silver globe. I was certain that tonight's moon was hours from rising, but it now seemed that my short life would be kept short by a simple misreading of Mrs. Joe's almanac. Thankfully, there was no moon to be seen yet, and I quickly realized that my reaction was a foolish one, as I said, for in my fear I had forgotten that Howl Beasts, mindless demons that they are, could not speak as men. Indeed, I knew well their namesake howls, which crept through the village and never failed to keep me from soft slumber on full moon nights. And so, seeing no moon and hearing intelligible - though still terrifying - words, I turned round, knowing that if I were at this moment to be united with my father and mother, it would be at the hands of a man.
He was a fearful man, all in coarse grey, with a great iron on his leg. A man with no hat, and with shoes ripped forward at the toes, and with an old rag tied round his head. A man who had been soaked in water, and smothered in mud, and lamed by stones, and cut by flints, and stung by nettles, and torn by briars; who limped, and shivered, and glared and growled; and whose teeth chattered in his head as he seized me by the chin.
"O! Don't tear out my throat, sir," I pleaded in terror. "Pray don't do it, sir."
"Tell us your name!" said the man. "Quick!"
"Pip, sir."
"Once more," said the man, staring at me. "Give it mouth!"
"Pip. Pip, sir."
"You young dog," said the man, licking his lips, "what fat cheeks you ha' got."
I believe they were fat, though I was at that time undersized for my years, and not strong.
"Darn me if I couldn't eat em," said the man, with a threatening shake of his head, "and if I han't half a mind to't!"
I earnestly expressed my hope that he wouldn't, and held tighter to the tombstone on which he had put me; partly, to keep myself upon it; partly, to keep myself from crying.
"Now lookee here!" said the man. "Where's your mother?"
"There, sir!" said I.
He bounded toward the spot, stopped and looked over his shoulder.
"There, sir!" I timidly explained. "Also Georgiana. That's my mother."
"Oh!" said he, coming back. "And is that your father alonger your mother?"
"Yes, sir," said I; "him too; late of this parish."
"Ha!" he muttered then, considering. "Who d'ye live with - supposin' you're kindly let to live, which I han't made up my mind about?"
"My sister, sir - Mrs. Joe Gargery - wife of Joe Gargery, the blacksmith, sir."
"Blacksmith, eh?" said he.
"Yes, sir," said I, "a maker of Hunt weapons in the village."
His horrid face contorted, as if he were struggling to keep his massive jaw from dislodging, as if a madness stripped from him all sense and emotion, leaving but agony and rage.
