“I don’t know that, my dear; for you know that we are to have a party to-morrow evening, and Miss Spoonbill and Colonel Crop have consented to come.”
The doctor did not laugh aloud; nor did he visibly smile at this last speech of his active, bustling, managing partner. And it would have been indeed excusable had the reverend divine at least relaxed his features into a smile, at the dexterity with which Mrs Greendale converted the above-named lady and gentleman into persons of rank. As these names have been mentioned, it is proper that our readers should know something of the parties.
Honoria Letitia Spoonbill was a maiden lady of some forty, fifty, sixty, or seventy years old; but in whose cranium the organ of number was so slightly developed, that she could not say which of the above numbers came nearest to the truth. In person not fascinating, in manners not commanding, in wealth not abounding, in temper not prepossessing, in understanding not profound; but in pride and vanity almost more than superabounding. Her rank not the deepest herald could ascertain, but it was very true that for many years she had been accustomed to claim kindred with the lord of Smatterton Castle, always speaking of and addressing the Earl of Smatterton as her cousin.
Colonel Crop was only Colonel Crop; he enjoyed the rank of colonel, and that was all the rank that he could boast; he was tolerated at the castle; he dined occasionally with his lordship; and occasionally partook of the pleasure of shooting the birds which were cultivated on his lordship’s estate. In town, he patronised the Countess’s routs, and in the country he was a companion for the Earl, when not otherwise engaged. He was proud of the Earl’s acquaintance, though he was not weak enough to suppose that he was more than tolerated. The haughtiest of the great do sometimes pick up such acquaintances as Colonel Crop, and they cannot easily get rid of them. At the village of Smatterton, of which Dr Greendale was rector, Colonel Crop was only known as the intimate friend of my lord; but the doctor knowing the humble rank which the colonel held in his lordship’s estimation, was amused at the gravity with which Mrs Greendale spoke of this gentleman and Miss Spoonbill, as persons of rank, and as too magnificent for the society of Penelope Primrose. With a slightly ironical expression he therefore said—
“I quite agree with you, Mrs Greendale, that it would not be very desirable to have our niece intimate with such persons of rank as Miss Spoonbill and Colonel Crop.”
“Well, I am glad you think as I do, my dear; but how shall we manage about the party to-morrow? How can we best get rid of Penelope? For really I cannot help observing that, notwithstanding her dependent situation, she begins to assume the airs of a lady.”
Mrs Greendale was going on with all the fluency of which she was capable, and that was no trifle, to recommend the exclusion of the young lady from the impending party which threatened on the morrow to grace the rectory-house of the village of Smatterton; but suddenly the loudness of her tones abated, and the words came slower, and her countenance looked blank with an expression of interrogation; for, as she was speaking, the worthy rector drew himself up to full sitting length, opened his eyes unusually wide, compressed his lips unusually close, and placing his hands in the arms of his chair, before his spouse had ceased speaking, he exclaimed—
“My good woman, what are you talking about?”
“Mrs Greendale certainly thought herself a very good woman, but she did not like to be so called. She was therefore somewhat confounded, and she replied with an expression of confusion—
“But, my dear, did not you say yourself that you did not wish your niece to be introduced to persons of such high rank as Miss Spoonbill and Colonel Crop?”