“I daresay she is! But I’d have every complaint under the sun, from tic to teething, without being so proud and stuck-up as she is. I went in this afternoon quite neighbourly like, but, oh dear me! and lor’ bless you! she almost as good as ast me what I wanted.”
“But—but I hope you didn’t say anything unpleasant mother?”
“Now, am I a woman as ever did say anything unpleasant, Samoowel? The most unpleasant thing I said was that I hoped she was as proud of her daughter as I was of my son.”
“And did you say that mother?”
“Of course I did, and then she began to talk about her girl, and grew a little more civil; but I don’t like her, Samoowel. She smells of pride, ’orrid; and as for her girl—there—”
Mr Samuel Chute did not stop to hear the latter part of the lady’s speech, for just then he caught sight of the top of a bonnet passing the window, and he ran into the next room, so as to be able to see its wearer going along the road towards the market-place.
“What is the matter, Samoowel? Is it an acciden’?” cried Mrs Chute, running after him.
“No, no, nothing, mother,” he replied, turning away from the window to meet the lady. “Nothing at all!”
“Why, Samoowel,” she cried, looking at him with an aspect full of disgust, “don’t tell me that—you were staring after that girl!”
“I wasn’t going to tell you I was looking after her, mother,” said the young man sulkily.