"Goes out of season, of course," and this time she left my presence with a most distinct snort.
Human nature is very much alike. Dimbie is cross about Miss Fairbrother's coming because he thinks his nose with its dear crook will be put farther out of joint. Amelia is cross because she thinks her nose will be put out of joint. And I am sufficiently human and feminine to derive considerable joy and satisfaction from their anxiety about the putting out of their said noses.
CHAPTER XXII
A LITERARY LADY HONOURS ME WITH A VISIT
On several different occasions of late has Amelia had the pleasure of reaching out the best china to a shrill accompaniment of "Now we shan't be long," for the few select residents of Pine Tree Valley have begun to call. Six months have elapsed since we came to live here. Now it will not look like "rushing at us." Most of them are kindly, amiable, well-meaning matrons, who seem sincerely sorry for me, who have sent me books and magazines, and who take an unfeigned interest in Amelia, her management, and her singing. "At any rate, she has nice, respectable shoes now," I say to myself with secret satisfaction. And she is enjoying the callers; she feels we are getting on. She has hinted at an "at home" day; she says I must buy Japanese paper serviettes to lay on the ladies' laps; and that rolled bread and butter is more correct than flat, every-day bread and butter.
Of all my visitors only two stand out in my memory with any distinctness: Mr. Brook, the vicar of the parish, because he was a man, and Mrs. Winderby, because she was literary.
As Mr. Brook walked through the gate Amelia simultaneously flew out of the front door, and put my slippers on to my feet with a smart action, rescued the tortoise, and generally put me in order. On reflection, I have decided that Amelia must take up her position at the pantry window each afternoon to lie in wait for callers.
Mr. Brook's eyes twinkled as he watched Amelia's efforts, and I liked him for the twinkle.
I remember more of Mrs. Winderby's conversation than I do of that of Mr. Brook, for the latter was not literary or nervous, or highly strung or jumpy, he was just a plain clergyman. I don't mean plain-looking, but a man without frills or nonsense, a kindly, breezy, broad-minded Christian gentleman with a clean-shaven face and a cultured voice. He was apologetic for having been so long in calling, he had been more or less ill for some months, and his wife did not make calls without him; she was at the seaside just now enjoying a well-earned rest. He was extremely sorry to hear of my illness; he hoped I should soon be better; he had seen my husband at church; and he consumed two muffins and four cucumber sandwiches with his tea.