Still Mrs Fitz-Adam
persevered.
The spring evenings were getting bright and long when three or four
ladies in calashes met at Miss Barker's door. Do you know what a
calash is? It is a covering worn over caps, not unlike the heads
fastened on old-fashioned gigs; but sometimes it is not quite so
large. This kind of head-gear always made an awful impression on
the children in Cranford; and now two or three left off their play
in the quiet sunny little street, and gathered in wondering silence
round Miss Pole, Miss Matty, and myself. We were silent too, so
that we could hear loud, suppressed whispers inside Miss Barker's
house: "Wait, Peggy! wait till I've run upstairs and washed my
hands. When I cough, open the door; I'll not be a minute."
And, true enough it was not a minute before we heard a noise,
between a sneeze and a crow; on which the door flew open. Behind
it stood a round-eyed maiden, all aghast at the honourable company
of calashes, who marched in without a word. She recovered presence
of mind enough to usher us into a small room, which had been the
shop, but was now converted into a temporary dressing-room. There
we unpinned and shook ourselves, and arranged our features before
the glass into a sweet and gracious company-face; and then, bowing
backwards with "After you, ma'am," we allowed Mrs Forrester to take
precedence up the narrow staircase that led to Miss Barker's
drawing-room.
Pages:
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123