"A man," as one of them observed to me once, "is _so_ in the
way in the house!" Although the ladies of Cranford know all each other's
proceedings, they are exceedingly indifferent to each other's opinions.
Indeed, as each has her own individuality, not to say eccentricity,
pretty strongly developed, nothing is so easy as verbal retaliation;
but, somehow, good-will reigns among them to a considerable degree.
The Cranford ladies have only an occasional little quarrel, spirted out
in a few peppery words and angry jerks of the head; just enough to
prevent the even tenor of their lives from becoming too flat. Their
dress is very independent of fashion; as they observe, "What does it
signify how we dress here at Cranford, where everybody knows us?" And if
they go from home, their reason is equally cogent, "What does it signify
how we dress here, where nobody knows us?" The materials of their
clothes are, in general, good and plain, and most of them are nearly as
scrupulous as Miss Tyler, of cleanly memory; but I will answer for it,
the last gigot, the last tight and scanty petticoat in wear in England,
was seen at Cranford--and seen without a smile.
I can testify to a magnificent family red silk umbrella, under which a
gentle little spinster, left alone of many brothers and sisters, used to
patter to church on rainy days.
Pages:
258
259
260
261
262
263
264
265
266
267
268
269
270
271
272
273
274
275
276
277
278
279
280
281
282