Pearl-Fishing; Choice Stories from Dickens' Household Words; First SeriesDickens, Charles
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Pearl-Fishing; Choice Stories from Dickens' Household Words; First Series
Dickens, Charles
English fiction -- 19th century; Short stories, English
“Ever since they comed to live in our street. Our Sally goes to her
school.”
“Whatten sort of a lass is she, for I ha’ never seen her?”
“Well,--as for looks, I cannot say. It’s so long since I first knowed
her, that I’ve clean forgotten what I thought of her then. My master
says he never saw such a smile for gladdening the heart. But maybe it’s
not looks you’re asking about. The best thing I can say of her looks is,
that she’s just one a stranger would stop in the street to ask help from
if you needed it. All the little childer creeps as close as they can to
her; she’ll have as many as three or four hanging to her apron all at
once.”
“Is she cocket at all?”
“Cocket, bless you! you never saw a creature less set up in all your
life. Her father’s cocket enough. No! she ’s not cocket any way. You’ve
not heard much of Susan Palmer, I reckon, if you think she’s cocket.
She’s just one to come quietly in, and do the very thing most wanted;
little things, maybe, that any one could do, but that few would think
on, for another. She’ll bring her thimble wi’ her, and mend up after
the childer o’ nights,--and she writes all Betty Barker’s letters to her
grandchild out at service,--and she’s in nobody’s way, and that’s a
great matter, I take it. Here’s the childer running past! School is
loosed. You’ll find her now, missus, ready to hear and to help. But we
none on us frab her by going near her in school-time.”
Poor Mrs. Leigh’s heart began to beat, and she could almost have turned
round and gone home again. Her country breeding had made her shy of
strangers, and this Susan Palmer appeared to her like a real born lady
by all accounts. So she knocked with a timid feeling at the indicated
door, and when it was opened, dropped a simple curtsey without speaking.
Susan had her little niece in her arms, curled up with fond endearment
against her breast, but she put her gently down to the ground, and
instantly placed a chair in the best corner of the room for Mrs. Leigh,
when she told her who she was. “It’s not Will as has asked me to come,”
said the mother, apologetically, “I’d a wish just to speak to you
myself!”
Susan colored up to her temples, and stooped to pick up the little
toddling girl. In a minute or two Mrs. Leigh began again.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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