Humorous
The New Mamma—Mrs. Gibson
From Wives and Daughters, 1866
Writing of Wives and Daughters, Madame Mohl said: “The Hamleys are delightful, and Mrs. Gibson! oh, the tricks are delicious; but I am not up to Cynthia yet. Molly is the best heroine you have had yet. Everyone says it is the best thing you ever did.”
On Tuesday afternoon Molly returned home—to the home which was already strange, and what Warwickshire people would call “unked,” to her. New paper, new colours; grim servants dressed in their best, and objecting to every change—from their master’s marriage to the new oilcloth in the hall, “which tripped ’em up, and threw ’em down, and was cold to the feet, and smelt just abominable.” All these complaints Molly had to listen to, and it was not a cheerful preparation for the reception which she already felt to be so formidable.
The sound of their carriage-wheels was heard at last, and Molly went to the front door to meet them. Her father got out first, and took her hand and held it while he helped his bride to alight. Then he kissed her fondly, and passed her on to his wife; but her veil was so securely (and becomingly) fastened down, that it was some time before Mrs. Gibson could get her lips clear to greet her new daughter. Then there was luggage to be seen about; and both the travellers were occupied in this, while Molly stood by trembling with excitement, unable to help, and only conscious of Betty’s rather cross looks, as heavy box after heavy box jammed up the passage.
“Molly, my dear, show—your mamma to her room!”
Mr. Gibson had hesitated, because the question of the name by which Molly was to call her new relation had never occurred to him before. The colour flashed into Molly’s face. Was she to call her “mamma”?—the name long appropriated in her mind to someone else—to her own dead mother. The rebellious heart rose against it, but she said nothing. She led the way upstairs, Mrs. Gibson turning round from time to time with some fresh direction as to which bag or trunk she needed most. She hardly spoke to Molly till they were both in the newly-furnished bedroom, where a small fire had been lighted by Molly’s orders.
“Now, my love, we can embrace each other in peace. O dear, how tired I am!”—(after the embrace had been accomplished). “My spirits are so easily affected with fatigue; but your dear papa has been kindness itself. Dear! what an old-fashioned bed! And what a—But it doesn’t signify. By and by we’ll renovate the house—won’t we, my dear? And you’ll be my little maid to-night, and help me to arrange a few things, for I’m just worn out with the day’s journey.”
“I’ve ordered a sort of tea-dinner to be ready for you,” said Molly. “Shall I go and tell them to send it in?”