The foster-sisters : $b A story in the days of Wesley and WhitfieldGuernsey, Lucy Ellen
History
The foster-sisters : $b A story in the days of Wesley and Whitfield
Guernsey, Lucy Ellen
Evangelical Revival -- England -- History -- 18th century -- Fiction; Historical fiction; Young women -- Fiction
Then we acquired habits of neatness and order, to do even the least
thing in the best way, and turn everything to the best account. Many a
child's garment have I seen got out of bits of linen or flannel, that
an ordinary English housewife would throw away; many a warm and even
pretty rug, for the feet of an invalid or an old person. And if the
girls in our school can darn a rent, or put on a patch, or work a heel
into a worn-out stocking, better than anybody in the duchy—though I say
it that shouldn't—it is owing at second hand to the teaching of dear
Mother Prudentia.
Of course, Amabel and I waited with no little impatience for the
arrival of our traveling companion. She came about three o'clock,
and was kindly received and lodged in the most comfortable place the
sisters could prepare for her, while Amabel and myself waited on her.
She was a very good specimen of a middle-class English woman—fat and
fair, with a clear, rosy complexion, and undeniably red hair, which,
nevertheless, was both pretty and becoming. She was about forty years
old, and had a frank, motherly way with her which made me take to her
at once. She looked a good deal surprised and rather awe-stricken at
the strange place in which she found herself, but she responded with
all due politeness to the apologies which Sister Agnes made concerning
her lodgings, and which we translated to her as well as we could—for
though Mrs. Thorpe could speak French after a fashion, she did not
understand it well.
"My dears, do ask the good lady not to trouble herself," said she, at
last. "What is good enough for her is certainly good enough for any one
like me. I am a sailor's wife anyhow, and used to roughing it in all
sorts of ways."
Sister Agnes was finally satisfied, and took her departure; and Mrs.
Thorpe sat down on the side of the narrow bed and began to unpack the
great bag she had brought in her hand.
"Your father has sent you each a purse of money," said she, producing
them; "there ought to be five guineas in each; count them and see.
Always count money as soon as you receive it. Is it all right?"
We satisfied her on this point. What a wonderful novelty it seemed to
have some money of our own.
"I am to provide you new clothes, and all you want for your journey,"
continued Mrs. Thorpe. "But I think, if you will allow me to judge,
that you had better not buy a great deal in Toulon, as fashions are so
different here and in England, and I fancy my ladies, your aunts, will
not much relish French ways."
We professed ourselves anxious of being guided by Mrs. Thorpe's
judgment in all things, and Amabel asked:
"Do you know my aunts, madame?"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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