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257
Cranford
·
Elizabeth Cleghorn Gaskell
14
“And
what
do
you
think
of
them?”
exclaimed
Captain
Brown.
“Aren’t
they
famously
good?”
So
urged
Miss
Jenkyns
could
not
but
speak.
“I
must
say,
I
don’t
think
they
are
by
any
means
equal
to
Dr
Johnson.
Still,
perhaps,
the
author
is
young.
Let
him
persevere,
and
who
knows
what
he
may
become
if
he
will
take
the
great
Doctor
for
his
model?”
This
was
evidently
too
much
for
Captain
Brown
to
take
placidly;
and
I
saw
the
words
on
the
tip
of
his
tongue
before
Miss
Jenkyns
had
finished
her
sentence.
“It
is
quite
a
different
sort
of
thing,
my
dear
madam,”
he
began.
“I
am
quite
aware
of
that,”
returned
she.
“And
I
make
allowances,
Captain
Brown.”
“Just
allow
me
to
read
you
a
scene
out
of
this
month’s
number,”
pleaded
he.
“I
had
it
only
this
morning,
and
I
don’t
think
the
company
can
have
read
it
yet.”
“As
you
please,”
said
she,
settling
herself
with
an
air
of
resignation.
He
read
the
account
of
the
“swarry”
which
Sam
Weller
gave
at
Bath.
Some
of
us
laughed
heartily.
I
did
not
dare,
because
I
was
staying
in
the
house.
Miss
Jenkyns
sat
in
patient
gravity.
When
it
was
ended,
she
turned
to
me,
and
said
with
mild
dignity—
“Fetch
me
‘Rasselas,’
my
dear,
out
of
the
book-room.”
When
I
had
brought
it
to
her,
she
turned
to
Captain
Brown—
“Now
allow
me
to
read
you
a
scene,
and
then
the
present
company
can
judge
between
your
favourite,
Mr
Boz,
and
Dr
Johnson.”
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