Married women -- Fiction; Mothers and daughters -- Fiction
He paused, and stared down into the fire; his companion well knew
that this was the one grief of his married life. Tom loved children,
and was ever the most popular and entertaining guest at their dances
and amusements; he longed to hear the patter of quick little feet
up and down The Holt’s uneven passages. Doodie, his wife, had never
shared this craving--the whole County was, so to speak, _her_ child.
Possibly she would not have objected to a fine clever boy, who excelled
at games and was a brilliant success as a prize-winner, but a large
family of daughters--no, thank you! Her husband, on the contrary, had a
particular partiality for girls. Often, as he smoked a solitary pipe in
the fire-light, with half-closed eyes, he seemed to see a golden-haired
darling, the daughter of his dreams, sitting on the hearth-rug, or
standing by the window. And here to-day, had actually come to him, the
realisation of his visions!
“I do hope--I do hope----” he began, then hesitated.
Mrs. Hesketh raised her dark discontented eyes to his, and murmured an
interrogative “Yes?”
After a momentary struggle between inclination and discretion, he
continued, “Between you and me, Maudie,” lowering his voice to a
whisper, “I hope to goodness that Doodie will take to her!”
CHAPTER II
It must be admitted that November is not an auspicious month for a
stranger to make acquaintance with the English country; the trees are
bare and leafless, the fields empty and uninteresting, and what can be
said for monotonous, muddy roads, cold frosty mornings, and long dark
nights?
However, Letty speedily settled into her awarded niche, and endeavoured
to make herself at home. She soon became acquainted with the dogs and
horses, with her uncle’s little fads, and her aunt’s peculiarities,
duly appeared at church, was presented to the parson’s afflicted wife,
and made a state call upon Mrs. Hesketh. Also, she did her utmost to
be useful; but her well-meaning efforts were not always successful.
For instance, with respect to arranging flowers, the schoolgirl had
no experience, her vases looked ragged, or in clumps; she lacked the
‘airy, fairy’ touch of an expert--but that, no doubt, would come. Then
as to dusting the valuable old china; here again she was something of
a failure. In handling a cherished blue plate, it slipped through her
fingers as a thing alive, rolled defiantly along a stone passage, and
subsided in a dozen pieces. Although Mrs. Fenchurch had picked this
up for sevenpence in a village inn, it was a good specimen, and she
showed her displeasure and annoyance plainly--in fact so plainly, that
Letty wept! However, day by day the new-comer improved; she helped her
aunt to feed the fowls, and date and pack the eggs for sale, assisted
in the greenhouse, brushed and exercised the dogs, and took an humble
and subordinate part in Mrs. Fenchurch’s numerous and absorbing
occupations.
* * * * *
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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