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257
Cranford
·
Elizabeth Cleghorn Gaskell
25
“But,
to
be
sure,
what
a
town
Cranford
is
for
kindness!
I
don’t
suppose
any
one
has
a
better
dinner
than
usual
cooked
but
the
best
part
of
all
comes
in
a
little
covered
basin
for
my
sister.
The
poor
people
will
leave
their
earliest
vegetables
at
our
door
for
her.
They
speak
short
and
gruff,
as
if
they
were
ashamed
of
it:
but
I
am
sure
it
often
goes
to
my
heart
to
see
their
thoughtfulness.”
The
tears
now
came
back
and
overflowed;
but
after
a
minute
or
two
she
began
to
scold
herself,
and
ended
by
going
away
the
same
cheerful
Miss
Jessie
as
ever.
“But
why
does
not
this
Lord
Mauleverer
do
something
for
the
man
who
saved
his
life?”
said
I.
“Why,
you
see,
unless
Captain
Brown
has
some
reason
for
it,
he
never
speaks
about
being
poor;
and
he
walked
along
by
his
lordship
looking
as
happy
and
cheerful
as
a
prince;
and
as
they
never
called
attention
to
their
dinner
by
apologies,
and
as
Miss
Brown
was
better
that
day,
and
all
seemed
bright,
I
daresay
his
lordship
never
knew
how
much
care
there
was
in
the
background.
He
did
send
game
in
the
winter
pretty
often,
but
now
he
is
gone
abroad.”
I
had
often
occasion
to
notice
the
use
that
was
made
of
fragments
and
small
opportunities
in
Cranford;
the
rose-leaves
that
were
gathered
ere
they
fell
to
make
into
a
potpourri
for
someone
who
had
no
garden;
the
little
bundles
of
lavender
flowers
sent
to
strew
the
drawers
of
some
town-dweller,
or
to
burn
in
the
chamber
of
some
invalid.
Things
that
many
would
despise,
and
actions
which
it
seemed
scarcely
worth
while
to
perform,
were
all
attended
to
in
Cranford.
Miss
Jenkyns
stuck
an
apple
full
of
cloves,
to
be
heated
and
smell
pleasantly
in
Miss
Brown’s
room;
and
as
she
put
in
each
clove
she
uttered
a
Johnsonian
sentence.
Indeed,
she
never
could
think
of
the
Browns
without
talking
Johnson;
and,
as
they
were
seldom
absent
from
her
thoughts
just
then,
I
heard
many
a
rolling,
three-piled
sentence.
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