‘I shall teach her what’s necessary, of course. And you wrong her, Dixon, when you say she does no dressmaking. I’m sure she’s most industrious. The time she spends in her room, altering things, and trying them on—both hats and bonnets, and dresses too. If you could see her, you’d say no more.’ ‘Perhaps I should be too much astonished,’ said Dixon, with a gleam of his native Yorkshire shrewdness. ‘There’s such a thing as thinking too much of dress, and I’m afraid our Ada——’ ‘Drat the man!’ said Mrs. Dixon, very sharply. ‘Will nothing satisfy him? First he grumbles that she doesn’t do her dressmaking, and then he grumbles that she does. It’s just like a man. Either they are up in the clouds, or they are down in the depths, or——’ ‘That’s the shop,’ said Mr. Dixon, feigning to hear the bell, and alertly running away. ‘Can’t he see?’ Mrs. Dixon said, within herself, when she was left alone. ‘Ada will marry a gentleman, of course. She’s as pretty as she can be, and a wonderful taste in dress, and a perfect lady in manners, and with Miss Wynter for her friend, and constantly going up to see her. Miss Wynter sees the best of society. Besides, I’ve seen the gentlemen look at her, many a time. Didn’t I hear Mr. Gilbert Langstroth, the very last time he was here, say to her, quite respectfully, “Why, Miss Dixon, I wondered what beauty had taken up her winter quarters in Bradstane”? And Dixon pretending that Mr. Langstroth is always sneering at people, and that he would never have said such a thing to any lady, or anywhere where it could be taken seriously! And him that sees such high society in London! And Mr. Askam—didn’t he say to me, “How’s your lovely daughter, Mrs. Dixon? I hear she’s turning all the young men’s heads”? It’s true Mr. Askam has a free and easy way with him, and they say he means no good by any girl he pays compliments to; but then it was me he spoke to—not Ada. Straws show which way the wind’s blowing, and I say there’s no knowing what may happen.’