"Ah, you're now coming to your senses," said the saddler. "I always knew that you were a sensible man; the best of us forget ourselves at times, as you did just now. You just mind what I say: no good will come of this haristocrat." And as the saddler led most of the company by the nose, they all went away with a terrible prejudice against the little Countess.
The children, too, had their ideas and their talks. They had heard that the new "lord" was a lady, and that she was only twelve years old.
This was a puzzle to them, and no effort of their mental powers enabled them to understand it; but they could—each according to their own cast of mind—have their ideas on the subject, and talk of and debate about them amongst themselves.
And so it came to pass that they, as well as their elders at the Green "Dragon," had their argument about the newcomer.
We often form our ideas of people out of our own fancies; and we are very often wrong, and I would recommend all young people not to be in too great a hurry in forming their opinion about others, until they have something to go on.
In the present instance Dolly Strap, who hated lessons, and whose one desire was to run wild, said she "was sure that the little haristocrat that was coming" (for the saddler's word had got all over the village) "was a girl who never learned any lessons, who never did and never would be obliged to; who was allowed to jump over hedges and ditches, and never got whacked for tearing her frock. Look here!" said Dolly, exhibiting a long rent in her frock; "that means smackers to-night, girls, at eight o'clock; and as like as not there will be smackers to-morrow night too. And haristocrats jump over hedges and ditches, and tear their frocks to pieces every day, and they only gets new ones for their pains, and never a smack get they; and if the day was wet, and they couldn't get out of doors to tear them, then you may be sure they does it somehow indoors, leaping over chairs, or somehow. You know," said Dolly, with a leer in her eye, "when you want to do a thing, you can always do it—somehow."
"I don't know about dress," said Martha Furblow; "but you may be sure she's dressed very grand—lots of feathers and flowers in her hat, and plenty of lace and beads all over her."
"And she has dozens of dolls, you may be sure," said Mary Mater. "I've heard say that there are dolls that say 'Papa' and 'Mamma,' and that open their eyes and shuts 'em too, and winks when they wants to look knowin'. She'll have some that asks you how you are, and says, 'Very well, thank ye, and how are you?'"
"Ah," said Jenny Giblet, "and her sweets—do you think of them? Hard-bake every morning for breakfast, and ginger-pop, and bottles of peardrops, and boxes of peppermints—she don't go in for pennorths, not she."
"And a gold crown—only not quite so grand as the Queen's," said Dolly. "All the haristockracy wear gold crowns when they go to see the Queen, and on Sundays when they go to church."