best houses in the village. The baker lives here,
and that respectable woman, Mrs Frummage, who sells
ribbons, and toys, and soap, and straw bonnets, with
many other things too long to mention. Here,
too, lives an apothecary, whom the veneration of this
and neighbouring parishes has raised to the dignity
of a doctor. And here also, in the smallest but
prettiest cottage that can be imagined, lives Mrs
Hearn, the widow of a former vicar, on terms, however,
with her neighbour the squire which I regret to say
are not as friendly as they should be. Beyond
this lady’s modest residence, Allington Street,
for so the road is called, turns suddenly round towards
the church, and at the point of the turn is a pretty
low iron railing with a gate, and with a covered way,
which leads up to the front door of the house which
stands there, I will only say here, at this fag end
of a chapter, that it is the Small House at Allington.
Allington Street, as I have said, turns short round
towards the church at this point, and there ends at
a white gate, leading into the churchyard by a second
entrance.
So much it was needful that I should say of Allington
Great House, of the Squire, and of the village.
Of the Small House, I will speak separately in a further
chapter.
The Two Pearls of Allington
“But Mr Crosbie is only a mere clerk.”
This sarcastic condemnation was spoken by Miss Lilian
Dale to her sister Isabella, and referred to a gentleman
with whom we shall have much concern in these pages.
I do not say that Mr Crosbie will be our hero, seeing
that that part in the drama will be cut up, as it were,
into fragments. Whatever of the magnificent may
be produced will be diluted and apportioned out in
very moderate quantities among two or more, probably
among three or four, young gentlemen—to
none of whom will be vouchsafed the privilege of much
heroic action.
“I don’t know what you call a mere clerk,
Lily. Mr Fanfaron is a mere barrister, and Mr
Boyce is a mere clergyman.” Mr Boyce was
the vicar of Allington, and Mr Fanfaron was a lawyer
who had made his way over to Allington during the
last assizes. “You might as well say that
Lord De Guest is a mere earl.”
“So he is—only a mere earl.
Had he ever done anything except have fat oxen, one
wouldn’t say so. You know what I mean by
a mere clerk? It isn’t much in a man to
be in a public office, and yet Mr Crosbie gives himself
airs.”
“You don’t suppose that Mr Crosbie is
the same as John Eames,” said Bell, who, by
her tone of voice, did not seem inclined to undervalue
the qualifications of Mr Crosbie. Now John Eames
was a young man from Guestwick, who had been appointed
to a clerkship in the Income-tax office, with eighty
pounds a year, two years ago.
“Then Johnny Eames is a mere clerk,” said
Lily; “and Mr Crosbie is— After all,
Bell, what is Mr Crosbie, if he is not a mere clerk?
Of course, he is older than John Eames; and, as he
has been longer at it, I suppose he has more than
eighty pounds a year.”
