The old woman’s reply was a tissue of contradictions: the girls were idle hussies, all contrary: they plagued the very life out of her, and she represented herself as using the most frightful threats, if they would not go to school. Breaking every bone in their skin was the least injury she promised them; till Mary, beginning to think her a cruel old woman, took hold of her brother’s coat-tails for protection.
“But I am afraid, Mrs. Hall,” said Richard, in that tone which might be either ironical or simple, “if you served them so, they would never be able to get to school at all, poor things.”
“Bless you, sir, d’ye think I’d ever lay a finger near them; it’s only the way one must talk to children, you see,” said she, patronising his inexperience.
“Perhaps they have found that out,” said Richard. Granny looked much entertained, and laughed triumphantly and shrewdly, “ay, ay, that they have, the lasses—they be sharp enough for anything, that they be. Why, when I tell little Jenny that there’s the black man coming after her, what does she do but she ups and says, ‘Granny, I know ‘tis only the wind in the chimney.’”
“Then I don’t think it seems to answer,” said Richard. “Just suppose you were to try for once, really punishing them when they won’t obey you, perhaps they would do it next time.”
“Why, sir, you see I don’t like to take the stick to them; they’ve got no mother, you see, sir.”
Mary thought her a kind grandmother, and came out from behind her brother.
“I think it would be kinder to do it for once. What do you think they will do as they grow older, if you don’t keep them in order when they are little?”
This was foresight beyond Granny Hall, who began to expatiate on the troubles she had undergone in their service, and the excellence of Sam. There was certainly a charm in her manners, for Ethel forgot her charge of ingratitude, the other sisters were perfectly taken with her, nor could they any of them help giving credence to her asseverations that Jenny and Polly should come to school next Sunday.
They soon formed another acquaintance; a sharp-faced woman stood in their path, with a little girl in her hand, and arrested them with a low curtsey, and not a very pleasant voice, addressing herself to Flora, who was quite as tall as Richard, and appeared the person of most consequence.