Book the Second - the Golden Thread
6. VI. Hundreds of People
(continued)
Miss Pross was a pleasant sight, albeit wild, and red, and grim, taking
off her darling's bonnet when she came up-stairs, and touching it up
with the ends of her handkerchief, and blowing the dust off it, and
folding her mantle ready for laying by, and smoothing her rich hair
with as much pride as she could possibly have taken in her own hair
if she had been the vainest and handsomest of women. Her darling was
a pleasant sight too, embracing her and thanking her, and protesting
against her taking so much trouble for her--which last she only dared
to do playfully, or Miss Pross, sorely hurt, would have retired to
her own chamber and cried. The Doctor was a pleasant sight too,
looking on at them, and telling Miss Pross how she spoilt Lucie, in
accents and with eyes that had as much spoiling in them as Miss Pross
had, and would have had more if it were possible. Mr. Lorry was a
pleasant sight too, beaming at all this in his little wig, and thanking
his bachelor stars for having lighted him in his declining years to a
Home. But, no Hundreds of people came to see the sights, and Mr. Lorry
looked in vain for the fulfilment of Miss Pross's prediction.
Dinner-time, and still no Hundreds of people. In the arrangements of
the little household, Miss Pross took charge of the lower regions,
and always acquitted herself marvellously. Her dinners, of a very
modest quality, were so well cooked and so well served, and so neat
in their contrivances, half English and half French, that nothing
could be better. Miss Pross's friendship being of the thoroughly
practical kind, she had ravaged Soho and the adjacent provinces, in
search of impoverished French, who, tempted by shillings and half-crowns, would impart culinary mysteries to her. From these decayed
sons and daughters of Gaul, she had acquired such wonderful arts,
that the woman and girl who formed the staff of domestics regarded
her as quite a Sorceress, or Cinderella's Godmother: who would send
out for a fowl, a rabbit, a vegetable or two from the garden, and
change them into anything she pleased.
On Sundays, Miss Pross dined at the Doctor's table, but on other days
persisted in taking her meals at unknown periods, either in the lower
regions, or in her own room on the second floor--a blue chamber,
to which no one but her Ladybird ever gained admittance. On this
occasion, Miss Pross, responding to Ladybird's pleasant face and
pleasant efforts to please her, unbent exceedingly; so the dinner was
very pleasant, too.
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