‘For Mab!’ Jim repeated with wonder. ‘Mab’s not that kind of girl at all. She does not go in for—for marrying or so forth. She’s too young. She thinks of her garden, and of boating, and that sort of thing. She is a very jolly girl. She has got a will of her own, just. The ladies might give their votes as much as they please, it would not matter for that.’
‘Of course I may be mistaken,’ said Mrs. Brown, ‘I am the poor schoolmistress. I don’t judge the gentry from their own point of view as you do. I have to look up from such a very, very long way down.’ She laughed, and Jim laughed too, though he did not quite know why. ‘But I know that he is always at Lady William’s. What a little cottage she lives in to be a lady of title, Mr. Jim; not very much bigger than mine!’
‘Aunt Emily is not rich,’ said Jim, with a little uneasiness, feeling that he ought not to be discussing his relation.
‘Poor lady; but if she marries her daughter to Leo Swinford? I know he is there almost every day.’
‘Yes, so I hear,’ said Jim, ‘but I don’t believe he thinks of marrying any one. He goes to see Aunt Emily. He goes for a good talk. There are not many people to talk to here.’
‘To talk to a middle-aged lady, when there are plenty of young ones? Oh no, Mr. Jim, you must not try to persuade me of that.’
‘But,’ said Jim, stammering a little, ‘it’s quite true. What difference is there? just as I come to see you, and Osborne—but perhaps that’s not quite the same thing.’
‘Osborne——’ said Mrs. Brown. ‘Oh, the curate, the good young curate. As you come to see me—thank you, Mr. Jim, how nice you are!—Leo goes and sits with your dear aunt. And Mr. Osborne—to whom does Mr. Osborne go? Oh, I owe him something; he is so nice to me about the school. Tell me where he goes to have his talk.’
‘Well, perhaps it’s not quite the same thing,’ said Jim, confused; ‘Miss Grey, you know she is almost like another curate, she knows as much about the parish; but if he goes and has tea with her, I don’t quite see, don’t you know, what anybody could say—how anybody could object—or what is out of the way, don’t you know, in me——’
‘Going to sit a little in the evening with Mrs. Brown,’ said the schoolmistress with a burst of laughter, clapping her hands. ‘And quite right too; the analogy is perfect. So there are three of us,’ she said, ‘whom the young men prefer. You can’t think how nice, and cheering, and pleasant for an old person; to think of three old ladies, Lady William, Miss Grey, and me! How much I am obliged to you, my dear Mr. Jim!’