None of the ladies in Cranford chose to
sanction the marriage by congratulating
either of the parties. We wished to ignore the
whole affair until our liege lady, Mrs. Jamieson,
returned. Until she came back to give
us our cue, we felt that it would be better to
consider the engagement in the same light
as the Queen of Spain's legs; facts which
certainly existed, but the less said about
the better. This restraint upon our tongues
—for you see if we did not speak about it to
any of the parties concerned, how could we
get answers to the questions that we longed
to ask?—was beginning to be irksome, and
our idea of the dignity of silence was paling
before our curiosity, when another direction
was given to our thoughts, by an
announcement on the part of the principal
shopkeeper of Cranford, who ranged the
trades from grocer and cheesemonger to man-
milliner as occasion required, that the spring
fashions were arrived, and would be exhibited
on the following Tuesday at his rooms in
High Street. Now Miss Matey had been
only waiting for this before buying herself
a new silk gown. I had offered, it is true,
to send to Drumble for patterns, but she had
rejected my proposal, gently implying that
she had not forgotten her disappointment
about the sea-green turban. I was thankful
that I was on the spot now to counteract the
dazzling fascination of any yellow or scarlet
silk. I must say a little about myself. I
have spoken of my father's old friendship for
the Jenkyns' family; indeed, I am not sure
if there was not some distant relationship.
He had willingly allowed me to remain all
the winter at Cranford, in consideration of a
letter which Miss Matey had written to him
about the time of the panic, in which I suspect
she had exaggerated my powers and my
bravery as a defender of the house. But now
that the days were longer and more cheerful,
he was beginning to urge the necessity of my
return; and I only delayed in a sort of odd
forlorn hope that if I could obtain any clear
information, I might make the account given
by the Signora of the Aga Jenkyns tally
with that of poor Peter, his appearance and
disappearance, which I had winnowed out of
the conversation of Miss Pole and Mrs.
Forrester.

The very Tuesday morning on which Mr.
Johnson was going to show fashions, the post-
woman brought two letters to the house. I
say the post-woman, but I should say the
postman's wife; he was a lame shoemaker,
a very clean honest man, much respected in
the town; but he never brought the letters
round except on unusual occasions, such as
Christmas Day, and Good Friday; and on
those days the letters which should have been
delivered at eight in the morning did not
make their appearance until two or three in
the afternoon; for every one liked poor
Thomas, and gave him a welcome on these
festive occasions. He used to say, " he was
welly stawed wi' eating, for there were three
or four houses where nowt would serve 'em
but he must share in their breakfast," and by
the time he had done his last breakfast he
came to some other friend who was beginning
dinner; but come what might in the way of
temptation, Tom was always sober, civil, and
smiling; and, as Miss Jenkyns used to say,
it was a lesson in patience that she doubted
not would call out that precious quality in
some minds, where but for Thomas it might
have lain dormant and undiscovered. Patience
was certainly very latent in Miss Jenkyns's
mind. She was always expecting letters,
and always drumming on the table till the
post-woman had called or gone past. On
Christmas Day and Good Friday she drummed
from breakfast till church, from church-time
till two o'clock, unless when the fire wanted
stirring, when she invariably knocked down
the fire-irons, and scolded Miss Matey for it.
But equally certain was the hearty welcome
and the good dinner for Thomas; Miss
Jenkyns standing over him like a bold dragoon,
questioning him as to his children—what they
were doing, what school they went to;
upbraiding him if another was likely to make
its appearance, but sending even the little
babies the shilling and the mince-pie which
was her gift to all the children, with half-a-
crown in addition for both father and mother.
The Post was not half of so much consequence
to dear Miss Matey; but not for the world
would she have diminished Thomas's welcome,
and his dole, though I could see that she felt
rather shy over the ceremony which had been
regarded by Miss Jenkyns as a glorious
opportunity for giving advice and benefiting
her fellow-creatures. Miss Matey would
steal the money all in a lump into his hand,
as if she were ashamed of herself. Miss
Jenkyns gave him each individual coin separate,
with a " There! that's for yourself; that's
for Jenny," &c. Miss Matey would even
beckon Martha out of the kitchen while he
ate his food; and once to 'my knowledge
winked at its rapid disappearance into a blue
cotton pocket-handkerchief. Miss Jenkyns
almost scolded him if he did not leave a clean
plate, however heaped it might have been,
and gave an injunction with every mouthful.

I have wandered a long way from the two
letters that awaited us on the breakfast-table
that Tuesday morning. Mine was from my
father. Miss Matey's was printed. My
father's was just a man's letter; I mean it
was very dull, and gave no information beyond
that he was well, that they had had a good
deal of rain, that trade was very stagnant,
and many disagreeable rumours afloat. He
then asked me, if I knew whether Miss
Matey still retained her shares in the Town
and County Bank, as there were very unpleasant
reports about it; though nothing more
than he had always foreseen, and had
prophesied to Miss Jenkins years ago, when she
would invest their little property in it; the