There is no village here, only a little fishing hamlet, at the mouth of the Coombe; but to my surprise I find they have really a dame school, taught by a woman who came hither last year. There is no church nearer than Clovelly, which is three miles away, and Stanton, which is just as far in the other direction.
[CHAPTER XL.]
Sept. 12.
I HAVE been very busy ordering my house and my servants, by the help of Mrs. Warner, whom my mother has lent me till I shall be more at home. She is a great help by her experience and cleverness, and a right pleasant companion as well. She owned to me that she did sometimes long for London, but nevertheless was quite content wherever her mistress was. She has lived with my mother since the days of her first marriage, and travelled with her both in England and in foreign parts, and her mind is enlarged much beyond the ordinary waiting-gentlewoman's tittle-tattle. If it were not selfish toward her and my mother, I would love to keep her altogether.
We went down this afternoon to see the village, if it can be called so, and especially the school of which we had heard. All the men were abroad fishing, as usual, but the women made us very welcome. I found them all speaking well of the schoolmistress, though they owned that they had thought it nonsense at first; but two little orphan maids whom she took in, made such marvellous progress in spinning and sewing that the mothers were soon won over. It seems she asks no fees in money (of which indeed they have next to none), but is content with enough of fish and fuel to eke out the product of her own goats, hens, and herb-garden, which she works with her own hands.
After chatting with one and another, we went on to the school, a decent but very small cottage, from the door of which, as we came up, streamed forth some dozen of urchins, who all stopped to stare at the new lady, of course, and then awaking to a sense of manners, they went off in quite a shower of reverences from the girls, and bobs from the little lads, all the latter very small, of course. I asked the name of one and another, but could extract very little from their shyness. One little girl, however, rather older than the rest, told us her name was Jane Lee—which is next to no name at all, in these parts.
"And what is your dame called?" I asked.
"Oh, just our dame. Mammy calls her Dame Madge."