She already wore her hat, and by the time her cousin, who had vanished with a bound, reappeared shaking out the crisp folds of the clean white apron, she had unpinned her skirt.
“Now, then,” she remarked after tying it on, and she fixed her best eye with a business-like air on her Daniel, who had been gazing at her with almost incredulous rapture. He left off embracing the hawthorn and reached the garden gate at the same moment as Phœbe herself; and before Mrs. Cosser, attracted by Mary Ann’s shrieks of enjoyment, had had time to reach the door they had set off arm-in-crook and disappeared round the angle of the lane.
“A TERR’BLE VOOLISH LITTLE MAID.”
The cottage next door to Mrs. Cross had long been occupied by Mr. and Mrs. Frizzel, but when that good couple went to live “Darchester-side” near their married daughter Susan, their discarded dwelling was taken by a respectable widow woman named Chaffey; and on a certain autumn morning she entered into possession.
From under the green “shed” of his cart the carrier extracted a variety of goods and chattels, exciting keen interest in the mind of Mrs. Cross, who, with her nose flattened against the leaded panes of her bedroom window, watched the proceedings closely. The large articles of furniture had arrived on the previous day in a waggon—a wooden bedstead, so solid in construction and uncompromising in shape that its legs had hung over the edge; an oak settle and carved linen chest at which Mrs. Cross had turned up her nose, deeming them “terr’ble old-fayshioned”.
She was better pleased with the parlour suite of painted wood cushioned with brightly coloured cretonne—couch, armchair and three small chairs; the lot must have cost at least three pound ten, thought Mrs. Cross, for she had seen the like in the upholsterer’s window at Branston. Her respect for the newcomer immediately increased, and this morning as she squinted down at her from her attic, vainly endeavouring to see all round her at once, she was much impressed by her appearance.
Mrs. Chaffey was a spare woman of middle height, wearing a decent brown stuff gown and grey fringed shawl. Her black bonnet with its yellow flowers was quite “fayshionable” in shape, and though her black kid gloves were unbuttoned and had moreover grown somewhat grey about the finger-tips, they nevertheless conveyed the idea of exceeding respectability.
“Quite a genteel sort o’ body,” commented Mrs. Cross, “and do seem to know what she be about too,” she added a moment later, as Mrs. Chaffey, having entered the house presently emerged again, having changed her headgear for a gathered print sun-bonnet, and protected her dress by the addition of a large white apron.
Mrs. Cross screwed her head in the other angle of the window and again squinted down.
“That’s a feather bed,” she observed as a large tied-up bundle was placed in the expectant arms of the newcomer who clearly staggered beneath its weight; “carrier did ought to carry it for she. Pillows next! And a basket—chaney most like. Fender—fire-irons—kettle—pots and a pan or two—very small ’uns they be. ’Tis but a lone ’ooman they d’ say, she’ll not want so much cookin’—clock—hassock——”