“No, neither father nor I had ever heard of Plough Monday. It was entirely my father’s fault: he is sometimes impatient when he is disturbed reading.”
“It was very foolish of the men,” said Mrs. Sotheby. “And they should feel ashamed of themselves, but directly I heard of it I knew there was a misunderstanding of some sort. It happens so easily, only I thought I would speak of it, because you know it is an old custom, and the men are proud of keeping it here, so you must make allowances for them.”
The kindliness of these words was more than Anne could bear. “Thank you, thank you so much,” she cried, and suddenly she found that her tears would flow—she could not keep them back, though she shook her head angrily, and as she did so a couple of hairpins dropped on to the floor.
At that moment a shadow passed in front of the windows; there was the sound of wheels, and a horse being pulled up short in front of the shop.
Anne looked about her wildly, but Mrs. Sotheby had lifted a flap of the counter and was saying:
“Come into our parlour and sit down for a little while, Miss Dunnock; it was foolish of me to speak, but I never guessed you would have taken such nonsense to heart. If one were to pay attention to half the silly things men do, our lives would not be worth living.”
Anne followed Mrs. Sotheby through the shop into a little room, with a coal fire burning in the grate. She sat down in the armchair pushed forward for her, while the grocer’s wife hurried back into the shop, summoned by the jangling bell. For a little while Anne was overcome with mortification at finding herself in the grocer’s parlour and wondered how she could have so disgraced herself.
Why, if she must cry every morning (and it seemed to have become a habit), could she not retire to her own room and weep in solitude? But after a few moments of humiliation the thought came into her mind that at last she had disgraced herself finally and for ever, and this reflection was a consolation to her.
“I cannot undo this. If I were to steal out of the back door without Mrs. Sotheby hearing me, it would make no difference. I have shown her my feelings; I have burst into tears in her shop; I cannot pretend to have any dignity after this.”
Anne dried the last of her tears, reflecting that it was exciting to have made a fool of herself, and that if she had not lost her self-control she would never have been asked into that parlour. Then, taking off her hat, she began tidying her hair and looking about her.