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257
Cranford
·
Elizabeth Cleghorn Gaskell
130
I
was
very
glad
to
accept
the
invitation
from
my
dear
Miss
Matty,
independently
of
the
conjuror,
and
most
particularly
anxious
to
prevent
her
from
disfiguring
her
small,
gentle,
mousey
face
with
a
great
Saracen’s
head
turban;
and
accordingly,
I
bought
her
a
pretty,
neat,
middle-aged
cap,
which,
however,
was
rather
a
disappointment
to
her
when,
on
my
arrival,
she
followed
me
into
my
bedroom,
ostensibly
to
poke
the
fire,
but
in
reality,
I
do
believe,
to
see
if
the
sea-green
turban
was
not
inside
the
cap-box
with
which
I
had
travelled.
It
was
in
vain
that
I
twirled
the
cap
round
on
my
hand
to
exhibit
back
and
side
fronts:
her
heart
had
been
set
upon
a
turban,
and
all
she
could
do
was
to
say,
with
resignation
in
her
look
and
voice—
“I
am
sure
you
did
your
best,
my
dear.
It
is
just
like
the
caps
all
the
ladies
in
Cranford
are
wearing,
and
they
have
had
theirs
for
a
year,
I
dare
say.
I
should
have
liked
something
newer,
I
confess—
something
more
like
the
turbans
Miss
Betty
Barker
tells
me
Queen
Adelaide
wears;
but
it
is
very
pretty,
my
dear.
And
I
dare
say
lavender
will
wear
better
than
sea-green.
Well,
after
all,
what
is
dress,
that
we
should
care
anything
about
it?
You’ll
tell
me
if
you
want
anything,
my
dear.
Here
is
the
bell.
I
suppose
turbans
have
not
got
down
to
Drumble
yet?”
So
saying,
the
dear
old
lady
gently
bemoaned
herself
out
of
the
room,
leaving
me
to
dress
for
the
evening,
when,
as
she
informed
me,
she
expected
Miss
Pole
and
Mrs
Forrester,
and
she
hoped
I
should
not
feel
myself
too
much
tired
to
join
the
party.
Of
course
I
should
not;
and
I
made
some
haste
to
unpack
and
arrange
my
dress;
but,
with
all
my
speed,
I
heard
the
arrivals
and
the
buzz
of
conversation
in
the
next
room
before
I
was
ready.
Just
as
I
opened
the
door,
I
caught
the
words,
“I
was
foolish
to
expect
anything
very
genteel
out
of
the
Drumble
shops;
poor
girl!
she
did
her
best,
I’ve
no
doubt.”
But,
for
all
that,
I
had
rather
that
she
blamed
Drumble
and
me
than
disfigured
herself
with
a
turban.
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