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Updated: June 28, 2025
But Miss Fitchett could not bear to relinquish the five-pound note, and added, that perhaps Miss Mohun might not object to apply her subscription to some other object, the Dorcas Society for instance.
'Something must be done, said she, returning to Jane. 'Our name will be a help. 'Speak to Aunt Rotherwood, said Jane. 'Or suppose we apply to Miss Fitchett, we should have time to drive that way. 'I am sure I shall not go to Miss Fitchett, said Emily, 'she only longs for an excuse to visit us. What can you be thinking of? Lend me your pencil, Jenny, if you please.
Fitchett had an irrepressible tendency to drowsiness under spiritual instruction, and in the recurrent regularity with which he dozed off until he nodded and awaked himself, he looked not unlike a piece of mechanism, ingeniously contrived for measuring the length of Mr. Barton's discourse. Perfectly wide-awake, on the contrary, was his left-hand neighbour, Mrs.
Fitchett could not see it in that light at all. Not only was the termination of the affair dreadfully unprofessional, but the little triumph he had anticipated at the trial was spoiled. If human weakness ever could touch this great man, it was when he heard the judge pay a compliment to "the sagacity and zeal of that most efficient officer."
Men called him polecat, apropos of nothing about him, apparently, for he had no connection with poles or cats; or foumart, apropos and you wouldn't have needed to be told if you had got to leeward of him just then of his very unroselike smell that is, fou foul, mart marten, his nearest relation; or, again, fitchett, as our forefathers termed him. But never mind. What's in a name, anyway?
"Well, madam, half-a-crown: I couldn't let 'em go, not under." "Half-a-crown, these times! Come now for the Rector's chicken-broth on a Sunday. He has consumed all ours that I can spare. You are half paid with the sermon, Mrs. Fitchett, remember that. Take a pair of tumbler-pigeons for them little beauties. You must come and see them. You have no tumblers among your pigeons."
'Miss Fitchett, the subscription-hunter, said Jane. 'She is actually coming to hunt us. I believe I have my purse. Oh! Emily is to be the first victim.
Fitchett was nodding his lowest, and Mr. Spratt was boxing the boys' ears with a constant rinforzando, as he felt more keenly the approach of dinner-time, Mr. Barton wound up his exhortation with something of the February chill at his heart as well as his feet. Mr. Fitchett, thoroughly roused now the instruction was at an end, obsequiously and gracefully advanced to help Mr.
"Well, madam, Master Fitchett shall go and see 'em after work. He's very hot on new sorts; to oblige you." "Oblige me! It will be the best bargain he ever made. A pair of church pigeons for a couple of wicked Spanish fowls that eat their own eggs! Don't you and Fitchett boast too much, that is all!" The phaeton was driven onwards with the last words, leaving Mrs.
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