England -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction
The next morning, Miss Galindo made her appearance, and, by some
mistake, unusual in my lady’s well-trained servants, was shown into the
room where I was trying to walk; for a certain amount of exercise was
prescribed for me, painful although the exertion had become.
She brought a little basket along with her; and while the footman was
gone to inquire my lady’s wishes (for I don’t think that Lady Ludlow
expected Miss Galindo so soon to assume her clerkship; nor, indeed, had
Mr. Horner any work of any kind ready for his new assistant to do), she
launched out into conversation with me.
“It was a sudden summons, my dear! However, as I have often said to
myself, ever since an occasion long ago, if Lady Ludlow ever honours me
by asking for my right hand, I’ll cut it off, and wrap the stump up so
tidily she shall never find out it bleeds. But, if I had had a little
more time, I could have mended my pens better. You see, I have had to
sit up pretty late to get these sleeves made”--and she took out of her
basket a pair of brown-holland over-sleeves, very much such as a
grocer’s apprentice wears--“and I had only time to make seven or eight
pens, out of some quills Farmer Thomson gave me last autumn. As for ink,
I’m thankful to say, that’s always ready; an ounce of steel filings, an
ounce of nut-gall, and a pint of water (tea, if you’re extravagant,
which, thank Heaven! I’m not), put all in a bottle, and hang it up
behind the house door, so that the whole gets a good shaking every time
you slam it to--and even if you are in a passion and bang it, as Sally
and I often do, it is all the better for it--and there’s my ink ready
for use; ready to write my lady’s will with, if need be.”
“O, Miss Galindo!” said I, “don’t talk so; my lady’s will! and she not
dead yet.”
“And if she were, what would be the use of talking of making her will!
Now, if you were Sally, I should say, ‘Answer me that, you goose!’ But,
as you’re a relation of my lady’s, I must be civil, and only say, ‘I
can’t think how you can talk so like a fool!’ To be sure, poor thing,
you’re lame!”
I do not know how long she would have gone on; but my lady came in, and
I, released from my duty of entertaining Miss Galindo, made my limping
way into the next room. To tell the truth, I was rather afraid of Miss
Galindo’s tongue, for I never knew what she would say next.
After a while my lady came, and began to look in the bureau for
something; and as she looked she said:
“I think Mr. Horner must have made some mistake, when he said he had so
much work that he almost required a clerk, for this morning he cannot
find anything for Miss Galindo to do; and there she is, sitting with her
pen behind her ear, waiting for something to write. I am come to find
her my mother’s letters, for I should like to have a fair copy made of
them. O, here they are! don’t trouble yourself, my dear child.”
When my lady returned again, she sat down and began to talk of Mr. Gray.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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