Why Frau Frohmann Raised Her Prices, and Other StoriesTrollope, Anthony
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Why Frau Frohmann Raised Her Prices, and Other Stories
Trollope, Anthony
English fiction -- 19th century; Manners and customs -- Fiction; Short stories, English
At the ruin they all got down, and Lady Wanless told them the entire
story of the Owlesses and the Wanlesses, and filled the brewer’s mind
with wonder as to the antiquity and dignity of the family. But the Major
was the fish just at this moment in hand. “The Rossiters are very old,
too,” she said smiling; “but perhaps that is a kind of thing you don’t
care for.”
“Very much indeed,” said he. Which was true,--for he was proud of
knowing that he had come from the Rossiters who had been over four
hundred years in Herefordshire. “A remembrance of old merit will always
be an incitement to new.”
“It is just that, Major Rossiter. It is strange how very nearly in the
same words Georgiana said the same thing to me yesterday.” Georgiana
happened to overhear this, but did not contradict her mother, though she
made a grimace to her sister which was seen by no one else. Then Lady
Wanless slipped aside to assist the brewer and Edith, leaving the Major
and her second daughter together. The two younger girls, of whom the
youngest was the wicked one with the penchant for the curate, were
wandering among the ruins by themselves.
“I wonder whether there ever were any people called Owless,” said
Rossiter, not quite knowing what subject of conversation to choose.
“Of course there were. Mamma always says so.”
“That settles the question;--does it not?”
“I don’t see why there shouldn’t be Owlesses. No; I won’t sit on the
wall, thank you, because I should stain my habit.”
“But you’ll be tired.”
“Not particularly tired. It is not so very far. I’d go back in the
carriage, only of course we can’t because of the habits. Oh, yes; I’m
very fond of dancing,--very fond indeed. We always have two balls every
year at Slowbridge. And there are some others about the county. I don’t
think you ever have balls at Beetham.”
“There is no one to give them.”
“Does Miss Dugdale ever dance?”
The Major had to think for a moment before he could answer the question.
Why should Miss Wanless ask as to Alice’s dancing? “I am sure she does.
Now I think of it I have heard her talk of dancing. You don’t know
Alice Dugdale?” Miss Wanless shook her head. “She is worth knowing.”
“I am quite sure she is. I have always heard that you thought so. She is
very good to all those children; isn’t she?”
“Very good indeed.”
“She would be almost pretty if she wasn’t so,--so, so dumpy I should
say.” Then they got on their horses again and rode back to Brook Park.
Let Georgiana be ever so tired she did not show it, but rode in under
the portico with perfect equestrian grace.
“I’m afraid you took too much out of her,” said Lady Wanless to the
Major that evening. Georgiana had gone to bed a little earlier than the
others.
This was in some degree hard upon him, as he had not proposed the
ride,--and he excused himself. “It was you arranged it all, Lady
Wanless.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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