succeeded. A part of the tea was sent as
presents to the Cranford ladies; and some of
it was distributed among the old people who
remembered Mr. Peter in the days of his
frolicsome youth. The India muslin gown
was reserved for darling Flora Gordon (Miss
Jessie Brown's daughter). The Gordons had
been on the Continent for the last few years,
but were now expected to return very soon;
and Miss Matey, in her sisterly pride anticipated
great delight in the joy of showing them
Mr. Peter. The pearl necklace disappeared;
and about that time many handsome and useful
presents made their appearance in the
households of Miss Pole and Mrs. Forrester; and
some rare and delicate Indian ornaments
graced the drawing rooms of Mrs. Jamieson
and Mrs. Fitz-Adam. I myself was not
forgotten. Among other things, I had the
handsomest bound and best edition of Doctor
Johnson's works that could be procured; and
dear Miss Matey, with tears in her eyes,
begged me to consider it as a present from
her sister as well as herself. In short no one
was forgotten; and what was more, every
one, however insignificant, who had shown
kindness to Miss Matey at any time, was sure
of Mr. Peter's cordial regard.

It was no wonder that he became such a
favourite at Cranford. The ladies vied with
each other who should admire him most; and
no wonder; for their quiet lives were astonishingly
stirred up by the arrival from India—
especially as the person arrived told more
wonderful stories than Sindbad the sailor;
and, as Miss Pole said, was quite as good as
an Arabian night any evening. For my own
part, I had vibrated all my life between
Drumble and Cranford, and I thought it was
quite possible that all Mr. Peter's stories
might be true although wonderful; but when
I found, that if we swallowed an anecdote of
tolerable magnitude one week, we had the
dose considerably increased the next, I began
to have my doubts; especially as I noticed
that when his sister was present the accounts
of Indian life were comparatively tame; not
that she knew more than we did, perhaps
less. I noticed also that when the rector
came to call, Mr. Peter talked in a different
way about the countries he had been in. But
I don't think the ladies in Cranford would
have considered him such a wonderful
traveller if they had only heard him talk in the
quiet way he did to him. They liked him the
better, indeed, for being what they called "so
very Oriental." One day at a select party in
his honour, which Miss Pole gave, and from
which, as Mrs. Jamieson honoured it with her
presence, and had even offered to send Mr.
Mulliner to wait, Mr. and Mrs. Hoggins and
Mrs. Fitz-Adam were necessarily excluded—
one day at Miss Pole's Mr. Peter said he was
tired of sitting upright against the hard-
backed uneasy chairs, and asked if he might not
indulge himself in sitting cross-legged. Miss
Pole's consent was eagerly given, and down he
went with the utmost gravity. But when Miss
Pole asked me, in an audible whisper, "if he
did not remind me of the Father of the
Faithful?" I could not help thinking of poor
Simon Jones the lame tailor; and while Mrs.
Jamieson slowly commented on the elegance
and convenience of the attitude, I remembered
how we had all followed that lady's
lead in condemning Mr. Hoggins for vulgarity
because he simply crossed his legs as he sate
still on his chair. Many of Mr. Peter's ways
of eating were a little strange amongst such
ladies as Miss Pole, and Miss Matey, and Mrs.
Jamieson, especially when I recollected the
untasted green peas and two-pronged forks
at poor Mr. Holbrook's dinner.

The mention of that gentleman's name
recalls to my mind a conversation between
Mr. Peter and Miss Matey, one evening in
the summer after he returned to Cranford.
The day had been very hot, and Miss Matey
had been much oppressed by the weather; in
the heat of which her brother revelled. I
remember that she had been unable to
nurse Martha's baby; which had become her
favourite employment of late, and which was
as much at home in her arms as in its
mother's, as long as it remained a light
weight—portable by one so fragile as Miss
Matey. This day to which I refer, Miss
Matey had seemed more than usually feeble
and languid, and only revived when the sun
went down, and her sofa was wheeled to the
open window, through which, although it
looked into the principal street of Cranford,
the fragrant smell of the neighbouring
hayfields came in every now and then, borne by
the soft breezes that stirred the dusk air of
the summer twilight, and then died away.
The silence of the sultry atmosphere was
lost in the murmuring noises which came in
from many an open window and door; even
the children were abroad in the street, late as
it was (between ten and eleven), enjoying the
game of play for which they had not had
spirits during the heat of the day. It was a
source of satisfaction to Miss Matey to see
how few candles were lighted even in the
apartments of those houses from which
issued the greatest signs of life. Mr. Peter,
Miss Matey and I, had all been quiet, each
with a separate reverie, for some little time,
when Mr. Peter broke in—

"Do you know, little Matey, I could have
sworn you were on the high road to matrimony
when I left England that last time!
If anybody had told me you would have
lived and died an old maid then, I should
have laughed in their faces."

Miss Matey made no reply; and I tried in
vain to think of some subject which should
effectually turn the conversation; but I
was very stupid; and before I spoke, he
went on:

"It was Holbrook; that fine manly fellow
who lived at——, that I used to think would
carry off my little Matey. You would not