“Do you approve of the wedding, Miss Dinah?” I asked her later, when we were alone in the dining-room. “Do you like it?”
Miss Dinah, who was counting a lot of glasses on the sideboard that the maid had just washed and brought in, counted to the end, and then began upon the spoons.
“It is the only way we can keep our girls in check,” observed she; “otherwise they’d break and lose all before them. I know how many glasses have been used at table, consequently how many go out to be washed, and the girl has to bring that same number in, or explain the reason why. As to the spoons, they get thrown away with the dishwater and sometimes into the fire. If they were silver it would be all the same.”
“Do you like the match, Miss Dinah?”
“Johnny Ludlow,” she said, turning to face me, “we make a point in this house of not expressing our likes and dislikes. Our position is peculiar, you know. When people have come to years of discretion, and are of the age that Mrs. Podd is, not to speak of Dr. Lewis’s, we must suppose them to be capable of judging and acting for themselves. We have not helped on the match by so much as an approving word or look: on the other hand, it has not lain in our duty or in our power to retard it.”
Which was, of course, good sense. But for all her caution, I fancied she could have spoken against it, had she chosen.
A trifling incident occurred to me in going back to the Bell. Rushing round the corner into Broad Street, a tall, well-dressed man, sauntering on before me, suddenly turned on his heel, and threw away his cigar. It caught the front of my shirt. I flung it off again; but not before it had burnt a small hole in the linen.
“I beg your pardon,” said the smoker, in a courteous voice—and there was no mistaking him for anything but a gentleman. “I am very sorry. It was frightfully careless of me.”
“Oh, it is nothing; don’t think about it,” I answered, making off at full speed.
St. Michael’s Church stood in a nook under the cathedral walls: it is taken down now. It was there that the wedding took place. Dr. Lewis arrived at it more like a baby than a bridegroom, helpless and nervous to a painful degree. But Mrs. Podd made up for his deficiencies in her grand self-possession; her white bonnet and nodding feather seemed to fill the church. Anne wore grey silk; Julia and Fanny Podd some shining pink stuff that their petticoats could be seen through. Poor Anne’s tears were dropping during the service; she kept her head bent down to hide them.