Illustrations of political economy, Volume 1 (of 9)Martineau, Harriet
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Illustrations of political economy, Volume 1 (of 9)
Martineau, Harriet
Didactic fiction, English; Political fiction, English; Social problems -- Fiction
“He would not have gone away without his errand,” answered the old man
with a sour smile; “and besides, you would have met him.”
“That puts me in mind, John Armstrong, I certainly saw a gentleman in
the wood just down below, and I remember he whistled to his dog that was
rustling among the bushes. A smart, pleasant-looking gentleman he was
too; and when I turned to remark him again, he seemed to be watching
where I was going.”
“A gentleman! Well, he is the first that ever came here to see me,
except Hollins. But now, Peg, what do you mean by a gentleman?”
“A gentleman? Why, you always know a gentleman, do not you? A gentleman
looks like a man—like a person—like a gentleman.”
“No doubt,” said Armstrong laughing. “But tell me now, would you call me
a gentleman?”
“Why, in as far as you are beholden to no one for your living——”
“No, no, I do not mean that. Look at me and say if I look like a
gentleman.”
Margaret hesitated while she said that she did not think any gentleman
commonly wore frocks of that sort; but that on Sundays, when she brushed
his coat before he went to the town, she always thought he looked very
genteel: but that this gentleman was dressed rather differently.
“Differently enough, I dare say,” said Armstrong. “I am sure I hope my
best suit will last my time; for there is not a shop within twenty miles
that would furnish me with such a waistcoat-piece as I should choose to
wear; and I like to button my coat with buttons that one can take hold
of, instead of such farthing-pieces as your Birmingham folks make now.”
“It is a pity,” said Margaret as she moved towards the cottage, “that
the gentleman did not stay to take a bit of fish, for we have more than
we can eat while it is good.”
For a month afterwards, Margaret’s prevailing idea was a superfluity of
fish. She had great pleasure in making an acceptable present; but she
could not bear to throw away money.
So much breath had been spent this day, that the inhabitants of the
cottage felt quite weary before night, and scarcely opened their lips
for many days, during which there was no further alarm.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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