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257
Cranford
·
Elizabeth Cleghorn Gaskell
229
[Picture:
Smiling
glory
...
and
becoming
blushes]
Miss
Matty’s
sale
went
off
famously.
She
retained
the
furniture
of
her
sitting-room
and
bedroom;
the
former
of
which
she
was
to
occupy
till
Martha
could
meet
with
a
lodger
who
might
wish
to
take
it;
and
into
this
sitting-room
and
bedroom
she
had
to
cram
all
sorts
of
things,
which
were
(the
auctioneer
assured
her)
bought
in
for
her
at
the
sale
by
an
unknown
friend.
I
always
suspected
Mrs
Fitz-Adam
of
this;
but
she
must
have
had
an
accessory,
who
knew
what
articles
were
particularly
regarded
by
Miss
Matty
on
account
of
their
associations
with
her
early
days.
The
rest
of
the
house
looked
rather
bare,
to
be
sure;
all
except
one
tiny
bedroom,
of
which
my
father
allowed
me
to
purchase
the
furniture
for
my
occasional
use
in
case
of
Miss
Matty’s
illness.
I
had
expended
my
own
small
store
in
buying
all
manner
of
comfits
and
lozenges,
in
order
to
tempt
the
little
people
whom
Miss
Matty
loved
so
much
to
come
about
her.
Tea
in
bright
green
canisters,
and
comfits
in
tumblers—
Miss
Matty
and
I
felt
quite
proud
as
we
looked
round
us
on
the
evening
before
the
shop
was
to
be
opened.
Martha
had
scoured
the
boarded
floor
to
a
white
cleanness,
and
it
was
adorned
with
a
brilliant
piece
of
oil-cloth,
on
which
customers
were
to
stand
before
the
table-counter.
The
wholesome
smell
of
plaster
and
whitewash
pervaded
the
apartment.
A
very
small
“Matilda
Jenkyns,
licensed
to
sell
tea,”
was
hidden
under
the
lintel
of
the
new
door,
and
two
boxes
of
tea,
with
cabalistic
inscriptions
all
over
them,
stood
ready
to
disgorge
their
contents
into
the
canisters.
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