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Updated: June 17, 2025
Mrs. Spruce drew a long breath, rolled up her eyes, and began: "Which the Misses Ittlethwaite is a county fam'ly, Miss, livin' some seven or eight miles from here as proud as proud, owin' to their forebears 'avin' sworn death on Magnum Chartus for servin' of King John an' Miss Ittlethwaite proper, she be gettin' on in years, but she's a great huntin' lady, an' come November is allus to be seen follerin' the 'ounds, stickin' to the saddle wonderful for 'er size an' time o' life, an' Miss Barbara, she doos a lot o' sick visitin', an' Bible readin', not 'ere, for our people won't stand it, an' Passon Walden ain't great on breakin' into private 'ouses without owners' consents for Bible readin', but she, she's 'Igh, an' tramps into Riversford near every day which the carrier's cart brings 'er 'ome to 'er own place they 'avin' given up a kerridge owin' to spekylation in railways, an' Miss Hagnes she works lovely with 'er needle, an' makes altar cloths an' vestis for Mr.
He listened attentively for a moment and heard the approaching trot and gallop of horses, then suddenly recalling the fact that the hounds were to meet that day at Ittlethwaite Park, he took his hat and went out to see if any of the hunters were passing by.
Old, otherwise dull men, started up into the semblance of youth again, and sprang to their saddles with almost as much rigour and alertness as boys, and Reynard with his cubs ruled potently the hour. The first 'meet' of the year was held at Ittlethwaite Park, and for days before it took place nothing else was talked of.
'Miss Ittlethwaite, Miss Agnes Ittlethwaite, Miss Barbara Ittlethwaite, Miss Christina Ittlethwaite, Ittlethwaite Park. It makes my tongue all rough and funny to read their names! They've called, and I suppose I shall have to call back, but I don't want to. What's the good? I'm sure I never shall get on with the Ittlethwaites, we shall never, never agree! Do you know them, Spruce? Who are they?"
"Old Tabitha's jealous! that's what it is!" said Bruce Ittlethwaite of Ittlethwaite Park, to his maiden sisters, "Ha-ha-ha! Old green- and-yellow Tabitha is afraid she'll lose her pet parson! Dammit! A pretty woman always starts this kind of nonsense. If it wasn't the clergyman, it would be somebody else perhaps Sir Morton himself or perhaps me! Ha-ha-ha! Dammit!"
"I don't believe a word of it!" declared the eldest Miss Ittlethwaite, "I do not attend Mr. Walden's services myself, but I am quite sure he is an excellent man and a perfect gentleman. Nothing that Tabitha Pippitt can ever say, will move me on that point!" "I always had my suspicions!" said Mrs.
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