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257
Cranford
·
Elizabeth Cleghorn Gaskell
65
Small
pieces
of
butter
grieve
others.
They
cannot
attend
to
conversation
because
of
the
annoyance
occasioned
by
the
habit
which
some
people
have
of
invariably
taking
more
butter
than
they
want.
Have
you
not
seen
the
anxious
look
(almost
mesmeric)
which
such
persons
fix
on
the
article?
They
would
feel
it
a
relief
if
they
might
bury
it
out
of
their
sight
by
popping
it
into
their
own
mouths
and
swallowing
it
down;
and
they
are
really
made
happy
if
the
person
on
whose
plate
it
lies
unused
suddenly
breaks
off
a
piece
of
toast
(which
he
does
not
want
at
all)
and
eats
up
his
butter.
They
think
that
this
is
not
waste.
Now
Miss
Matty
Jenkyns
was
chary
of
candles.
We
had
many
devices
to
use
as
few
as
possible.
In
the
winter
afternoons
she
would
sit
knitting
for
two
or
three
hours—
she
could
do
this
in
the
dark,
or
by
firelight—
and
when
I
asked
if
I
might
not
ring
for
candles
to
finish
stitching
my
wristbands,
she
told
me
to
“keep
blind
man’s
holiday.”
They
were
usually
brought
in
with
tea;
but
we
only
burnt
one
at
a
time.
As
we
lived
in
constant
preparation
for
a
friend
who
might
come
in
any
evening
(but
who
never
did),
it
required
some
contrivance
to
keep
our
two
candles
of
the
same
length,
ready
to
be
lighted,
and
to
look
as
if
we
burnt
two
always.
The
candles
took
it
in
turns;
and,
whatever
we
might
be
talking
about
or
doing,
Miss
Matty’s
eyes
were
habitually
fixed
upon
the
candle,
ready
to
jump
up
and
extinguish
it
and
to
light
the
other
before
they
had
become
too
uneven
in
length
to
be
restored
to
equality
in
the
course
of
the
evening.
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