Lab
Library
Journal
Shop
Sign in
to keep
Share image
1
257
Cranford
·
Elizabeth Cleghorn Gaskell
113
Miss
Matty
tried
to
soothe
Miss
Pole,
but
in
vain.
That
lady,
usually
so
kind
and
good-humoured,
was
now
in
a
full
flow
of
anger.
“And
I
went
and
ordered
a
cap
this
morning,
to
be
quite
ready,”
said
she
at
last,
letting
out
the
secret
which
gave
sting
to
Mrs
Jamieson’s
intimation.
“Mrs
Jamieson
shall
see
if
it
is
so
easy
to
get
me
to
make
fourth
at
a
pool
when
she
has
none
of
her
fine
Scotch
relations
with
her!”
In
coming
out
of
church,
the
first
Sunday
on
which
Lady
Glenmire
appeared
in
Cranford,
we
sedulously
talked
together,
and
turned
our
backs
on
Mrs
Jamieson
and
her
guest.
If
we
might
not
call
on
her,
we
would
not
even
look
at
her,
though
we
were
dying
with
curiosity
to
know
what
she
was
like.
We
had
the
comfort
of
questioning
Martha
in
the
afternoon.
Martha
did
not
belong
to
a
sphere
of
society
whose
observation
could
be
an
implied
compliment
to
Lady
Glenmire,
and
Martha
had
made
good
use
of
her
eyes.
“Well,
ma’am!
is
it
the
little
lady
with
Mrs
Jamieson,
you
mean?
I
thought
you
would
like
more
to
know
how
young
Mrs
Smith
was
dressed;
her
being
a
bride.”
(Mrs
Smith
was
the
butcher’s
wife).
Miss
Pole
said,
“Good
gracious
me!
as
if
we
cared
about
a
Mrs
Smith;”
but
was
silent
as
Martha
resumed
her
speech.
“The
little
lady
in
Mrs
Jamieson’s
pew
had
on,
ma’am,
rather
an
old
black
silk,
and
a
shepherd’s
plaid
cloak,
ma’am,
and
very
bright
black
eyes
she
had,
ma’am,
and
a
pleasant,
sharp
face;
not
over
young,
ma’am,
but
yet,
I
should
guess,
younger
than
Mrs
Jamieson
herself.
She
looked
up
and
down
the
church,
like
a
bird,
and
nipped
up
her
petticoats,
when
she
came
out,
as
quick
and
sharp
as
ever
I
see.
I’ll
tell
you
what,
ma’am,
she’s
more
like
Mrs
Deacon,
at
the
‘Coach
and
Horses,’
nor
any
one.”
Marker
Marker
Fine marker
White-out
Fine white-out
Circle
Paint
Unmarker
Hand
Scalpel
Dice
Sieve
Purify
Undo
Redo
Start over
