Mrs Forrester replied, that the same thought had
crossed her mind; she too was feeling very uncomfortable, it was so
very strange. She was quite certain that it was her pocket-
handkerchief which was in that loaf just now; and it had been in
her own hand not five minutes before. She wondered who had
furnished the bread? She was sure it could not be Dakin, because
he was the churchwarden. Suddenly Miss Matty half-turned towards
me -
"Will you look, my dear--you are a stranger in the town, and it
won't give rise to unpleasant reports--will you just look round and
see if the rector is here? If he is, I think we may conclude that
this wonderful man is sanctioned by the Church, and that will be a
great relief to my mind.
I looked, and I saw the tall, thin, dry, dusty rector, sitting
surrounded by National School boys, guarded by troops of his own
sex from any approach of the many Cranford spinsters. His kind
face was all agape with broad smiles, and the boys around him were
in chinks of laughing. I told Miss Matty that the Church was
smiling approval, which set her mind at ease.
I have never named Mr Hayter, the rector, because I, as a well-to-
do and happy young woman, never came in contact with him. He was
an old bachelor, but as afraid of matrimonial reports getting
abroad about him as any girl of eighteen: and he would rush into a
shop or dive down an entry, sooner than encounter any of the
Cranford ladies in the street; and, as for the Preference parties,
I did not wonder at his not accepting invitations to them.
Pages:
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162