“I trust they will be happy,” said Mrs. Gurridge, with a sigh. Then as an afterthought: “He seems all right.”
“Yes,” Mrs. Malling said, with a responsive exhalation, “I think so. He has few faults. But he is not the man to follow my Silas on this farm. I truly believe, Sarah, that he couldn’t tell the difference between a cabbage-field and a potato-patch. These what-d’you-call-’ems, Civil servants, are only fit to tot up figures and play around with a woman’s wardrobe every time she crosses the border. Thank goodness I’m not of the travelling kind; I’m sure I should hide my face for very shame every time I saw a Customs officer.”
The round, rosy face of the farm-wife assumed a deeper hue, and her still comely lips were pursed into an indignant moue. Her smooth grey head, adorned by a black lace cap trimmed with pearl beads, was turned in the direction of the two other occupants of 53 the room, who were more or less buried in the obscurity of a distant corner.
For a moment she gazed at the dimly-outlined figure of a man who was seated on one of the horse-hair chairs, leaning towards the sofa on which reclined the form of her daughter, Prudence. His elbows were resting on his knees and his chin was supported upon his two clenched fists. He was talking earnestly. Mrs. Malling watched him for some moments, then her eyes drifted to the girl, the object of her solicitude.
Although the latter was in the shadow her features were, even at this distance, plainly discernible. There was a strong resemblance between mother and daughter. They were both of medium dark complexion, with strong colouring. Both were possessed of delightfully sweet brown eyes, and mouths and chins firm but shapely. The one remarkable difference between them was in the nasal organ. While the mother’s was short, well-rounded, and what one would call pretty though ordinary, the girl’s was prominent and aquiline with a decided bridge. This feature gave the younger woman a remarkable amount of character to her face. Altogether hers was a face which, wherever she went, would inevitably attract admiring attention. Just now she was evidently teasing the man before her, and the mother turned back to the stove with a merry twinkle in her eyes.
“I think Prudence will teach him a few lessons,” she murmured to her friend.
“What––about the farm?”
“Well, I wasn’t just thinking of the farm.”
The two ladies smiled into each other’s faces.