Chapter Twelve.
In Which a Bosom Friend is Introduced, Rural Felicity is Enlarged on, and Deep Plans are Laid.
A bosom friend is a pleasant possession. Miss Lillycrop had one. She was a strong-minded woman. We do not say this to her disparagement. A strong mind is as admirable in woman as in man. It is only when woman indicates the strength of her mind by unfeminine self-assertion that we shrink from her in alarm. Miss Lillycrop’s bosom friend was a warm-hearted, charitable, generous, hard-featured, square-shouldered, deep-chested, large-boned lady of middle age and quick temper. She was also in what is styled comfortable circumstances, and dwelt in a pretty suburban cottage. Her name was Maria Stivergill.
“Come with me, child,” said Miss Stivergill to Miss Lillycrop one day, “and spend a week at The Rosebud.”
It must not be supposed that the good lady had given this romantic name to her cottage. No, when Miss Stivergill bought it, she found the name on the two gate-posts; found that all the tradespeople in the vicinity had imbibed it, and therefore quietly accepted it, as she did all the ordinary affairs of life.
“Impossible, dear Maria,” said her friend, with a perplexed look, “I have so many engagements, at least so many duties, that—”
“Pooh!” interrupted Miss Stivergill. “Put ’em off. Fulfil ’em when you come back. At all events,” she continued, seeing that Miss Lillycrop still hesitated, “come for a night or two.”
“But—”
“Come now, Lilly”—thus she styled her friend—“but give me no buts. You know that you’ve no good reason for refusing.”