his blessed garments in a box under the dresser, and that kitting asleep on top of them!’
‘I fear,’ said Charlotte meekly, ‘that the house is in some disarray.’
‘Well, I know a servant as would suit, so long as you don’t turn up your nose at the Afflicted. She might not be quick but she’s clean, and having nothing else to think about she gets on with her work — which is more than you can say for Present Company Downstairs!’
‘Since you recommend her, Mrs Coates, I should be glad to have her. Is her affliction … ?’
Her mind wandered through a forest of strawberry marks, rickets, rashes, and downright ugliness, unable to picture this marred treasure.
‘Oh, she won’t frighten the baby,’ said the midwife briskly. ‘Her trouble’s elsewhere!’ And she placed a finger on her forehead and turned it round, like an imaginary key in a lock.
‘Mad?’ Charlotte gasped.
‘Back’ard,’ said Mrs Coates, ‘and all the better for it! Apart from breathing very hard while she polishes and scrubs, and not knowing when to stop — which you’ll have to stop her, else she goes on ‘til she drops — she hasn’t a fault in the world. Only, she needs kindness and a bit of understanding, not to be made merry with and put upon … I brought her into a Vale of Tears, Mrs Longe, thirteen years since. She was backwards way about then, and her mother took agin her in consequence. I’d like to see her settled, and you settled. And from what Mr Longe’s been saying about Society he should be glad to do somebody a good turn! And, talking of Mr Longe, he’s just the sort of gentleman as Polly Slack could take to — in a proper way — and she’d polish his boots until he could see his face in’em!’
‘Send her round as soon as may be, Mrs Coates,’ cried Charlotte. ‘She shall find a home with us.’
So had Dorcas said, many a time, and Betty always grumbled at the flock of red-nosed starvelings brought up from Garth village. But, fed and firmly trained, they had all married well according to their station in life, and left their good places for the doubtful delights of a small cottage and a large brood. And still Kit’s Hill continued to absorb their little sisters and eldest daughters.
‘That is settled,’ said Charlotte, sounding exactly like her mother.
‘Which goes to show,’ Mrs Coates continued, ‘how one good turn begets another. And now, Miss Sluts,’ as the subdued servant entered with lukewarm tea and scraped toast, ‘keep a-moving and do as your mistress tells you. And the next time a kitting does his business in the coal-scuttle, mind you clean it out, not leave it for folks to put on the fire and make a stink!’
‘Yes m’m,’ said the slattern, and those might have been her farewell words, for that afternoon Polly Slack joined the household and she left it, and they moved into a new phase.
Even in the three final days of his visit, William saw the beginning of a transformation which began in Charlotte’s bedroom and crept down as far as the first floor. On the Thursday, he and Toby were requested to close the folding doors between parlour and dining-room. As they had been standing open for above twenty years, with Butler’s Analo g y of Religion and Berkeley’s Dialogues acting as present doorstops, this proved to be quite an undertaking. Toby was not even sure whether the books held the doors back or held them up, and the two men moved them gingerly (one at a time) to make sure, while William inspected and oiled the hinges as an extra precaution. Then Toby very kindly presented him with a fine copy of William Griffiths’s A Practical Treatise on Farriery which had been published only the previous year, and begged him to stay on as long as he liked. But the purpose of the visit had been achieved, and William’s mind was now bent on returning to his dying friend and master.
So early one dark morning he rose and dressed and knocked gently on Charlotte’s door, to
‘I fear,’ said Charlotte meekly, ‘that the house is in some disarray.’
‘Well, I know a servant as would suit, so long as you don’t turn up your nose at the Afflicted. She might not be quick but she’s clean, and having nothing else to think about she gets on with her work — which is more than you can say for Present Company Downstairs!’
‘Since you recommend her, Mrs Coates, I should be glad to have her. Is her affliction … ?’
Her mind wandered through a forest of strawberry marks, rickets, rashes, and downright ugliness, unable to picture this marred treasure.
‘Oh, she won’t frighten the baby,’ said the midwife briskly. ‘Her trouble’s elsewhere!’ And she placed a finger on her forehead and turned it round, like an imaginary key in a lock.
‘Mad?’ Charlotte gasped.
‘Back’ard,’ said Mrs Coates, ‘and all the better for it! Apart from breathing very hard while she polishes and scrubs, and not knowing when to stop — which you’ll have to stop her, else she goes on ‘til she drops — she hasn’t a fault in the world. Only, she needs kindness and a bit of understanding, not to be made merry with and put upon … I brought her into a Vale of Tears, Mrs Longe, thirteen years since. She was backwards way about then, and her mother took agin her in consequence. I’d like to see her settled, and you settled. And from what Mr Longe’s been saying about Society he should be glad to do somebody a good turn! And, talking of Mr Longe, he’s just the sort of gentleman as Polly Slack could take to — in a proper way — and she’d polish his boots until he could see his face in’em!’
‘Send her round as soon as may be, Mrs Coates,’ cried Charlotte. ‘She shall find a home with us.’
So had Dorcas said, many a time, and Betty always grumbled at the flock of red-nosed starvelings brought up from Garth village. But, fed and firmly trained, they had all married well according to their station in life, and left their good places for the doubtful delights of a small cottage and a large brood. And still Kit’s Hill continued to absorb their little sisters and eldest daughters.
‘That is settled,’ said Charlotte, sounding exactly like her mother.
‘Which goes to show,’ Mrs Coates continued, ‘how one good turn begets another. And now, Miss Sluts,’ as the subdued servant entered with lukewarm tea and scraped toast, ‘keep a-moving and do as your mistress tells you. And the next time a kitting does his business in the coal-scuttle, mind you clean it out, not leave it for folks to put on the fire and make a stink!’
‘Yes m’m,’ said the slattern, and those might have been her farewell words, for that afternoon Polly Slack joined the household and she left it, and they moved into a new phase.
Even in the three final days of his visit, William saw the beginning of a transformation which began in Charlotte’s bedroom and crept down as far as the first floor. On the Thursday, he and Toby were requested to close the folding doors between parlour and dining-room. As they had been standing open for above twenty years, with Butler’s Analo g y of Religion and Berkeley’s Dialogues acting as present doorstops, this proved to be quite an undertaking. Toby was not even sure whether the books held the doors back or held them up, and the two men moved them gingerly (one at a time) to make sure, while William inspected and oiled the hinges as an extra precaution. Then Toby very kindly presented him with a fine copy of William Griffiths’s A Practical Treatise on Farriery which had been published only the previous year, and begged him to stay on as long as he liked. But the purpose of the visit had been achieved, and William’s mind was now bent on returning to his dying friend and master.
So early one dark morning he rose and dressed and knocked gently on Charlotte’s door, to
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