The Bed-Book of Happiness: Being a colligation or assemblage of cheerful writings brought together from many quarters into this one compass for the diversion, distraction, and delight of those who lie abed,—a friend to the invalid, a companion to the sleepless, an excuse to the tiredBegbie, Harold
General
The Bed-Book of Happiness: Being a colligation or assemblage of cheerful writings brought together from many quarters into this one compass for the diversion, distraction, and delight of those who lie abed,—a friend to the invalid, a companion to the sleepless, an excuse to the tired
Begbie, Harold
Literature -- Collections
I wondered what the Cranford ladies did with Captain Brown at their
parties. We had often rejoiced, in former days, that there was no
gentleman to be attended to, and to find conversation for, at the
card-parties. We had congratulated ourselves upon the snugness of the
evenings; and, in our love for gentility, and distaste of mankind, we
had almost persuaded ourselves that to be a man was to be "vulgar"; so
that when I found my friend and hostess, Miss Jenkyns, was going to have
a party in my honour, and that Captain and the Miss Browns were invited,
I wondered much what could be the course of the evening. Card-tables,
with green-baize tops were set out by daylight, just as usual; it was
the third week in November, so the evening closed in about four.
Candles, and clean packs of cards were arranged in each table. The fire
was made up; the neat maid-servant had received her last directions; and
there we stood, dressed in our best, each with a candle-lighter in our
hands, ready to dart at the candles as soon as the first knock came.
Parties in Cranford were solemn festivities, making the ladies feel
gravely elated as they sat together in their best dresses. As soon as
three had arrived, we sat down to "Preference," I being the unlucky
fourth. The next four comers were put down immediately to another table;
and presently the tea-trays, which I had seen set out in the storeroom
as I passed in the morning, were placed each on the middle of a
card-table. The china was delicate eggshell; the old-fashioned silver
glittered with polishing; but the eatables were of the slightest
description. While the trays were yet on the tables, Captain and the
Miss Browns came in; and I could see that, somehow or other, the captain
was a favourite with all the ladies present. Ruffled brows were
smoothed, sharp voices lowered at his approach. Miss Brown looked ill,
and depressed almost to gloom. Miss Jessie smiled as usual, and seemed
nearly as popular as her father. He immediately and quietly assumed the
man's place in the room; attended to every one's wants, lessened the
pretty maid-servant's labour by waiting on empty cups and
bread-and-butterless ladies; and yet did it all in so dignified a
manner, and so much as if it were a matter of course for the strong to
attend to the weak, that he was a true man throughout. He played for
threepenny points with as grave an interest as if they had been pounds;
and yet, in all his attention to strangers, he had an eye on his
suffering daughter--for suffering I was sure she was, though to many
eyes she might only appear to be irritable. Miss Jessie could not play
cards; but she talked to the sitters-out, who, before her coming, had
been rather inclined to be cross. She sang, too, to an old cracked
piano, which I think had been a spinet in its youth. Miss Jessie sang
"Jock of Hazeldean" a little out of tune; but we were none of us
musical, though Miss Jenkyns beat time, out of time, by way of appearing
to be so.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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