‘Oh! she does not trouble herself about consistency,’
said Elizabeth; ’anything which attracts notice
pleases her. She thinks our dear papa has done
more for the living than nine out of ten would have
thought of; and if there was any talk of presenting
him with some small testimonial of respect, her mite
would be instantly forthcoming; and Sir Edward Merton,
he is the most munificent gentleman she ever heard
of; if all of his fortune were like him now!—“Only,
my dear Miss Lizzie, does not your papa think of having
a lightning conductor attached to the spire? such an
elevation, it quite frightens me to think of it! and
the iron of the railroad, too—“’
‘Oh! is she scientific, too?’ aaid Anne.
‘Yes; you see how the march of intellect has
reached us,’ said Elizabeth; ’poor Kate
is so much afraid of the electric fluid, that she
cannot venture to wear a steel buckle. You have
no idea of the efforts we are making to keep up with
the rest of the world. We have a wicked Radical
newspaper all to ourselves; I wonder it has the face
to call itself the Abbeychurch Reporter.’
‘Your inns are on the move,’ said Anne;
’I see that little beer-shop near the Station
calls itself “The Locomotive Hotel."’
‘I wish it were really locomotive,’ said
Elizabeth, ’so that it would travel out of Abbeychurch;
it is ruining half the young men here.’
‘Well, perhaps the new town will mend,’
said Anne; ’it will have a Christian name to-morrow,
and perhaps the influence of the old town will improve
it.’
‘I think Papa has little hope of that kind,’
said Elizabeth; ’if the new town does grow a
little better, the old will still grow worse.
It is grievous to see how much less conformable Papa
finds the people of the old town, than even I can
remember them. But come, we must be locomotive,
or Dora will not be at home in time.’
The clock was striking eight as the young ladies entered
the house; but Dora was allowed to sit up a little
longer to see her aunt, Mrs. Hazleby. It was
not long before a loud knock at the door announced
that lady’s arrival.
Mrs. Hazleby was a tall bony Scotchwoman, with fierce-looking
grey eyes. She gave Mrs. Woodbourne a very overpowering
embrace, and then was careful to mark the difference
between her niece, little Dora, whom she kissed, and
the three elder girls, with whom she only shook hands.
She was followed by her daughters—Harriet,
a tall showy girl of sixteen, and Lucy, a pale, quiet,
delicate-looking creature, a year younger. Rupert
Merton was still missing; but his movements were always
so uncertain, that his family were in no uneasiness
on his account.
