"Go to him, my dears, and tell him to come in directly, and dress
himself for tea. Tell him I insist upon it. Do not run. Walk quietly.
You will heat yourselves, and I do not like Mrs Rowland to see you
running."
Mary informed her brother that he was to leave his pond and come in, and
Fanny added that mamma insisted upon it. They had time to do this, to
walk quietly, to have their hair made quite smooth, and to sit down with
their two dolls on each side the common cradle, in a corner of the
drawing-room, before the Miss Ibbotsons arrived.
The Miss Ibbotsons were daughters of a distant relation of Mr Grey's.
Their mother had been dead many years; they had now just lost their
father, and were left without any nearer relation than Mr Grey. He had
invited them to visit his family while their father's affairs were in
course of arrangement, and till it could be discovered what their means
of living were likely to be. They had passed their lives in Birmingham,
and had every inclination to return to it, when their visit to their
Deerbrook relations should have been paid. Their old schoolfellows and
friends all lived there: and they thought it would be easier and
pleasanter to make the smallest income supply their wants in their
native town, than to remove to any place where it might go further.
They had taken leave of their friends as for a very short time, and when
they entered Deerbrook, looked around them as upon a place in which they
were to pass a summer.
All Deerbrook had been informed of their expected arrival--as it always
was of everything which concerned the Greys. The little Rowlands were
walking with their mother when the chaise came up the street; but being
particularly desired not to look at it, they were not much benefited by
the event. Their grandmamma, Mrs Enderby, was not at the moment under
the same restriction; and her high cap might be seen above the green
blind of her parlour as the chaise turned into Mr Grey's gate. The
stationer, the parish clerk, and the milliner and her assistant, had
obtained a passing view of sundry boxes, the face of an elderly woman,
and the outline of two black bonnets,--all that they could boast of to
repay them for the vigilance of a whole afternoon.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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