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257
Cranford
·
Elizabeth Cleghorn Gaskell
12
The
next
four
comers
were
put
down
immediately
to
another
table;
and
presently
the
tea-trays,
which
I
had
seen
set
out
in
the
store-room
as
I
passed
in
the
morning,
were
placed
each
on
the
middle
of
a
card-table.
The
china
was
delicate
egg-shell;
the
old-fashioned
silver
glittered
with
polishing;
but
the
eatables
were
of
the
slightest
description.
While
the
trays
were
yet
on
the
tables,
Captain
and
the
Miss
Browns
came
in;
and
I
could
see
that,
somehow
or
other,
the
Captain
was
a
favourite
with
all
the
ladies
present.
Ruffled
brows
were
smoothed,
sharp
voices
lowered
at
his
approach.
Miss
Brown
looked
ill,
and
depressed
almost
to
gloom.
Miss
Jessie
smiled
as
usual,
and
seemed
nearly
as
popular
as
her
father.
He
immediately
and
quietly
assumed
the
man’s
place
in
the
room;
attended
to
every
one’s
wants,
lessened
the
pretty
maid-servant’s
labour
by
waiting
on
empty
cups
and
bread-and-butterless
ladies;
and
yet
did
it
all
in
so
easy
and
dignified
a
manner,
and
so
much
as
if
it
were
a
matter
of
course
for
the
strong
to
attend
to
the
weak,
that
he
was
a
true
man
throughout.
He
played
for
threepenny
points
with
as
grave
an
interest
as
if
they
had
been
pounds;
and
yet,
in
all
his
attention
to
strangers,
he
had
an
eye
on
his
suffering
daughter—
for
suffering
I
was
sure
she
was,
though
to
many
eyes
she
might
only
appear
to
be
irritable.
Miss
Jessie
could
not
play
cards:
but
she
talked
to
the
sitters-out,
who,
before
her
coming,
had
been
rather
inclined
to
be
cross.
She
sang,
too,
to
an
old
cracked
piano,
which
I
think
had
been
a
spinet
in
its
youth.
Miss
Jessie
sang,
“Jock
of
Hazeldean”
a
little
out
of
tune;
but
we
were
none
of
us
musical,
though
Miss
Jenkyns
beat
time,
out
of
time,
by
way
of
appearing
to
be
so.
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