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the extra number of men’s shoes brought into the house at
dinnertime。 Indeed； she has not yet recovered her equanimity on
the subject； though it is now nearly three hours since dinner； and
the house…floor is perfectly clean again； as clean as everything else
in that wonderful house…place； where the only chance of collecting
a few grains of dust would be to climb on the salt…coffer； and put
your finger on the high mantel…shelf on which the glittering brass
candlesticks are enjoying their summer sinecure； for at this time
of year； of course； every one goes to bed while it is yet light； or at
least light enough to discern the outline of objects after you have
bruised your shins against them。 Surely nowhere else could an
oak clock…case and an oak table have got to such a polish by the
hand： genuine “elbow polish；” as Mrs。 Poyser called it； for she
thanked God she never had any of your varnished rubbish in her
house。 Hetty Sorrel often took the opportunity； when her aunt’s
back was turned； of looking at the pleasing reflection of herself in
those polished surfaces； for the oak table was usually turned up
like a screen； and was more for ornament than for use； and she
could see herself sometimes in the great round pewter dishes that
were ranged on the shelves above the long deal dinner…table； or in
the hobs of the grate； which always shone like jasper。
Everything was looking at its brightest at this moment； for the
sun shone right on the pewter dishes； and from their reflecting
surfaces pleasant jets of light were thrown on mellow oak and
bright brass—and on a still pleasanter object than these； for some
of the rays fell on Dinah’s finely moulded cheek； and lit up her
pale red hair to auburn； as she bent over the heavy household
linen which she was mending for her aunt。 No scene could have
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been more peaceful； if Mrs。 Poyser； who was ironing a few things
that still remained from the Monday’s wash； had not been making
a frequent clinking with her iron and moving to and fro whenever
she wanted it to cool； carrying the keen glance of her blue…grey eye
from the kitchen to the dairy； where Hetty was making up the
butter； and from the dairy to the back kitchen； where Nancy was
taking the pies out of the oven。 Do not suppose； however； that Mrs。
Poyser was elderly or shrewish in her appearance； she was a good…
looking woman； not more than eight…and…thirty； of fair complexion
and sandy hair； well…shapen； light…footed。 The most conspicuous
article in her attire was an ample checkered linen apron； which
almost covered her skirt； and nothing could be plainer or less
noticeable than her cap and gown； for there was no weakness of
which she was less tolerant than feminine vanity； and the
preference of ornament to utility。 The family likeness between her
and her niece Dinah Morris； with the contrast between her
keenness and Dinah’s seraphic gentleness of expression； might
have served a painter as an excellent suggestion for a Martha and
Mary。 Their eyes were just of the same colour； but a striking test of
the difference in their operation was seen in the demeanour of
Trip； the black…and…tan terrier； whenever that much…suspected
dog unwarily exposed himself to the freezing arctic ray of Mrs。
Poyser’s glance。 Her tongue was not less keen than her eye； and；
whenever a damsel came within earshot； seemed to take up an
unfinished lecture； as a barrel…organ takes up a tune； precisely at
the point where it had left off。
The fact that it was churning day was another reason why it
was inconvenient to have the whittaws； and why； consequently；
Mrs。 Poyser should scold Molly the housemaid with unusual
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severity。 To all appearance Molly had got through her after…dinner
work in an exemplary manner； had “cleaned herself” with great
dispatch； and now came to ask； submissively； if she should sit
down to her spinning till milking time。 But this blameless conduct；
according to Mrs。 Poyser； shrouded a secret indulgence of
unbecoming wishes； which she now dragged forth and held up to
Molly’s view with cutting eloquence。
“Spinning； indeed！ It isn’t spinning as you’d be at； I’ll be bound；
and let you have your own way。 I never knew your equals for
gallowsness。 To think of a gell o’ your age wanting to go and sit
with half…a…dozen men！ I’d ha’ been ashamed to let the words pass
over my lips if I’d been you。 And you； as have been here ever since
last Michaelmas； and I hired you at Treddles’on stattits； without a
bit o’ character—as I say； you might be grateful to be hired in that
way to a respectable place； and you knew no more o’ what belongs
to work when you come here than the mawkin i’ the field。 As poor
a two…fisted thing as ever I saw； you know you was。 Who taught
you to scrub a floor； I should like to know？ Why； you’d leave the
dirt in heaps i’ the corners—anybody ’ud think you’d never been
brought up among Christians。 And as for spinning； why； you’ve
wasted as much as your wage i’ the flax you’ve spoiled learning to
spin。 And you’ve a right to feel that； and not to go about as gaping
and as thoughtless as if you was beholding to nobody。 Comb the
wool for the whittaws； indeed！ That’s what you’d like to be doing；
is it？ That’s the way with you—that’s the road you’d all like to go；
headlongs to ruin。 You’re never easy till you’ve got some
sweetheart as is as big a fool as yourself： you think you’ll be finely
off when you’re married； I daresay； and have got a three…legged
stool to sit on； and never a blanket to cover you； and a bit o’ oat…
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cake for your dinner； as three children are a…snatching at。”
“I’m sure I donna want t’ go wi’ the whittaws；” said Molly；
whimpering； and quite overcome by this Dantean picture of her
future； “on’y we allays used to comb the wool for ’n at Mester
Ottley’s； an’ so I just axed ye。 I donna want to set eyes on the
whittaws again； I wish I may never stir if I do。”
“Mr。 Ottley’s； indeed！ It’s fine talking o’ what you did at Mr。
Ottley’s。 Your missis there might like her floors dirted wi’
whittaws for what I know。 There’s no knowing what people wonna
like—such ways as I’ve heard of！ I never had a gell come into my
house as seemed to know what cleaning was； I think people live
like pigs； for my part。 And as to that Betty as was dairymaid at
Trent’s before she come to me； she’d ha’ left the cheeses without
turning from week’s end to week’s end； and the dairy thralls； I
might ha’ wrote my name on ’em； when I come downstairs after
my illness； as the doctor said it was inflammation—it was a mercy
I got well of it。 And to think o’ your knowing no better； Molly； and
been here a…going i’ nine months； and not for want o’ talking to；
neither—and what are you stanning there for； like a jack as is run
down； instead o’ getting your wheel out？ You’re a rare un for
sitting down to your work a little while after it’s time to put by。”
“Munny； my iron’s twite told； pease put it down to warm。”
The small chirruping voice that uttered this request came from
a little sunny…haired girl between three and four； who； seated on a
high chair at the end of the ironing table； was arduously cl