half of his face, it looked so comic I could not help smiling
as I caught his one eye; the other was rather swollen. The one that was
visible was a grayish-greeny-blue eye with a black edge. I quickly gave
him my knife and he laughed as he took it. "Yes, I do look a guy, don't
I?" he said, and we both laughed again. Even through the mud one
could see he was a gentleman. He fixed his stirrup so quickly and
neatly, but it broke the blade of my little gold knife.
He apologized profusely, and said he must have it mended, and where
should he send it? but at that moment there was the sound of the hunt
coming across a field near again. He had no time for more manners, but
jumped on his horse and was off in a few seconds--and alas! my knife
went with him! And just as I was turning to go home I picked up the
broken blade, which was lying in the road. I hope grandmamma won't
notice it and ask about it. As I said before, there are disadvantages in
being well born--one cannot tell lies like servants.
II
The Gurrage family have arrived. We saw carts and a carriage going to
meet them at the station. Their liveries are prune and scarlet, and look
so inharmonious, and they seem to have crests and coats of arms on
every possible thing. Young Mr. Gurrage is our landlord--but I think I
said that before.
On Sunday in church the party entered the Ledstone family pew. An
oldish woman with a huddled figure--how unlike
grandmamma!--looking about the class of a housekeeper; a girl of my
age, with red hair and white eye-lashes and a buff hat on; and a young
man, dark, thick, common-looking. He seemed kind to his mother,
though, and arranged a cushion for her. Their pew is at right angles to
the one I sit in, so I have a full view of them all the time. He has
box-pleated teeth--which seem quite unnecessary when dentists are so
good now. No one would have missed at least four of them if they had
been pulled out when he was a boy. His eyes are wishy-washy in spite
of being brown, and he looks as if he did not have enough sleep. They
were all three self-conscious and conscious of other people.
Grandmamma says in a public place, unless the exigencies of
politeness require one to come into personal contact with people, one
ought never to be aware that there is anything but tables and chairs
about. I have not once in my life seen her even glance around, and yet
nothing escapes her hawk eye. Coming out they passed me on the path
to the church gate, and Mrs. Gurrage stopped, and said:
"Good-mornin', me dear; you must be our new tenant at the cottage."
Her voice is the voice of quite a common person and has the broad
accent of some county--I don't know which.
I was so astonished at being called "me dear" by a stranger that for half
a second I almost forgot grandmamma's maxim of "let nothing in life
put you out of countenance." However, I did manage to say:
"Yes, I am Miss Athelstan."
Then the young man said, "I hope you find everything to your liking
there, and that my agent has made things comfortable."
"We are quite pleased with the cottage," I said.
"Well, don't stand on ceremony," the old woman continued. "Come up
and see us at The Hall whenever you like, me dear, and I'll be round
callin' on your grandma one of these days soon, but don't let that stop
her if she likes to look in at me first."
I thought of grandmamma "looking in" on this person, and I could have
laughed aloud; however, I managed to say, politely, that my
grandmother was an aged lady and somewhat rheumatic, and as we had
not a carriage I hoped Mrs. Gurrage would excuse her paying her
respects in person.
"Rheumatic, is she? Well, I have the very thing for the j'ints. My
still-room maid makes it under my own directions. I'll bring some when
I call. Good-day to you, me dear," and they bustled on into the arms of
the parson's family and other people who were waiting to give them a
gushing welcome at the gate.
Grandmamma laughed so when I told her about them!
Two days afterwards Mrs. Gurrage and Miss Hoad (the red-haired girl
is the niece) came to call.
Grandmamma was seated as usual in the old Louis XV. bergère, which
is one of our household gods. It does not go with the other furniture in
the room, which is a "drawing-room suite" of
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