think it now, I dare say, Mary! but this
sister of mine was once a very pretty girl—
at least I thought so; and so I've a notion
did poor Holbrook. What business had he to
die before I came home to thank him for all
his kindness to a good-for-nothing cub as I
was? It was that that made me first think
he cared for you; for in all our fishing
expeditions it was Matey, Matey, we talked about.
Poor Deborah! What a lecture she read me
on having asked him home to lunch one day
when she had seen the Arley carriage in the
town, and thought that my lady might call.
Well, that's long years ago; more than half
a lifetime! and yet it seems like yesterday!
I don't know a fellow I should have liked
better as a brother-in-law. You must have
played your cards badly, my little Matey,
somehow or another—wanted your brother
to be a good go-between, eh! little one?"
said he, putting out his hand to take hold of
hers as she lay on the sofa—"Why, what's
this? you're shivering and shaking, Matey,
with that confounded open window. Shut it,
Mary, this minute!"

I did so, and then stooped down to kiss
Miss Matey, and see if she really were
chilled. She caught at my hand, and gave it
a hard squeeze—but unconsciously I think—
for in a minute or two she spoke to us quite
in her usual voice, and smiled our uneasiness
away; although she patiently submitted to
the prescriptions we enforced of a warmed
bed, and a glass of weak negus. I was to
leave Cranford the next day, and before I
went I saw that all the effects of the open
window had quite vanished. I had superintended
most of the alterations necessary in
the house and household during the latter
weeks of my stay. The shop was once more
a parlour; the empty resounding rooms
again furnished up to the very garrets.

There had been some talk of establishing
Martha and Jem in another house; but Miss
Matey would not hear of this. Indeed I never
saw her so much roused as when Miss Pole
had assumed it to be the most desirable
arrangement. As long as Martha would remain
with Miss Matey, Miss Matey was only too
thankful to have her about her; yes, and Jem
too, who was a very pleasant man to have in the
house, for she never saw him from week's end
to week's end. And as for the probable
children, if they would all turn out such little
darlings as her goddaughter Matilda, she
should not mind the number, if Martha
didn't. Besides, the next was to be called
Deborah; a point which Miss Matey had
reluctantly yielded to Martha's stubborn
determination that her first-born was to be
Matilda. So Miss Pole had to lower her
colours, and even her voice, as she said to me
that as Mr. and Mrs. Hearn were still to go
on living in the same house with Miss Matey,
we had certainly done a wise thing in hiring
Martha's niece as an auxiliary. I left Miss
Matey and Mr. Peter most comfortable and
contented; the only subject for regret to the
tender heart of the one and the social friendly
nature of the other being the unfortunate
quarrel between Mrs. Jamieson and the
plebeian Hogginses and their following. In
joke I prophesied one day that this would
only last until Mrs. Jamieson or Mr. Mulliner
were ill, in which case they would only be too
glad to be friends with Mr. Hoggins; but
Miss Matey did not like my looking
forward to anything like illness in so light
a manner; and, before the year was out,
all had come round in a far more
satisfactory way. I received two Cranford
letters on one auspicious October morning.
Both Miss Pole and Miss Matey wrote to ask
me to come over and meet the Gordons, who
had returned to England, alive and well, with
their two children, now almost grown up.
Dear Jessie Brown had kept her old kind
nature, although she had changed her name
and station; and she wrote to say that she
and-Major Gordon expected to be in Cranford
on the fourteenth, and she hoped and
begged to be remembered to Mrs. Jamieson
(named first, as became her honourable station),
Miss Pole, and Miss Matey—could she
ever forget their kindness to her poor father
and sister?—Mrs. Forrester, Mr. Hoggins
(and here again came in an allusion to kindness
shown to the dead long ago), his new
wife, who as such must allow Mrs. Gordon
to desire to make her acquaintance, and
who was moreover an old Scotch friend of
her husband's. In short, every one was
named, from the rector—who had been
appointed to Cranford in the interim between
Captain Brown's death and Miss Jessie's
marriage, and was now associated with the
latter event—down to Miss Betty Barker—
all were asked to the luncheon; all except
Mrs. Fitz-Adam, who had come to live in
Cranford since Miss Jessie Brown's days, and
whom I found rather moping on account of
the omission. People wondered at Miss Betty
Barker's being included in the honourable
list; but then, as Miss Pole said, we must
remember the disregard of the genteel
proprieties of life in which the poor captain had
educated his girls; and for his sake we
swallowed our pride; indeed Mrs. Jamieson
rather took it as a compliment, as putting
Miss Betty (formerly her maid) on a level
with "those Hogginses."

But, when I arrived in Cranford, nothing
was as yet ascertained of Mrs. Jamieson's
own intentions; would the honourable lady
go, or would she not? Mr. Peter declared
that she should and she would; Miss Pole
shook her head and desponded. But Mr.
Peter was a man of resources. In the first
place, he persuaded Miss Matey to write to
Mrs. Gordon, and to tell her of Mrs. Fitz-
Adam's existence, and to beg that one so
kind, and cordial, and generous, might be
included in the pleasant invitation. An
answer came back by return of post, with a