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Updated: May 20, 2025
Jellybrand, in the innocent self-confidence of his heart, had agreed with Miss Maple, an elderly and bitter spinster, that the next sewing meeting of the Dorcas Sisterhood should be held in her house and not at the Rectory. He had told Mrs. Cole of this on his way upstairs to the nursery. Now Mrs.
Jellybrand had arrived, as he very often did, to tea. He had expressed a desire, as he very often did, to see the "dear children." Mrs. Cole, liking to show her children to visitors, even to such regular and ordinary ones as Mr. Jellybrand, at once was eager to gratify his desire. "We'll catch them just before their tea," she said happily.
He stood on this particular and dramatic occasion in front of the group in the doorway and stared as well he might. Unfortunately the situation, already bad enough, was aggravated by this dark prominence of Mr. Jellybrand. It cannot be found in any chronicles that Mr.
He had said: "I agreed with Miss Maple that it would be better to have it at her house. I'm sure you will think as I do." Why should he be sure? Was he not forgetting his position a little?... Kindest woman in the world, she had seen with a strange un-Christian pleasure the dog's advance upon the black trousers. Then Mr. Jellybrand had been obviously afraid.
To think that all these years I've slaved and slaved only to be told such things by a boy as " Then a very dramatic thing occurred. The door opened, just as it might in the third act of a play by M. Sardou, and revealed the smiling faces of Mrs. Cole, Miss Amy Trefusis and the Rev. William Jellybrand, Senior Curate of St. James's, Orange Street. Mr.
He fancied, perhaps, that she too had been afraid. He fancied, perhaps, that she was not mistress in her house, that she could be browbeaten by her sister and her nurse. She smiled at him. "There's no reason to be afraid, Mr. Jellybrand. ... He's such a little dog." Then the dog smiled at her. "Poor little thing," she said. "He must have nearly died in the snow."
Cole liked the Dorcas meetings at the Rectory; she liked the cheerful chatter, the hospitality, the gentle scandal and her own position as hostess. She did not like she never liked Miss Maple, who was always pushing herself forward, criticising and back-biting. Mr. Jellybrand should not have settled this without consulting her. He had taken it for granted that she would agree.
Jellybrand, who had been afraid of dogs ever since, as an infant, he had been mistaken for a bone by a large retriever, stepped back upon Aunt Amy, who uttered a shrill cry. Mrs. Cole, although she did not forsake her accustomed placidity, said: "Nurse... Nurse..." Jeremy cried: "It's all right, he wouldn't touch anything, he's only friendly."
Jeremy opened his eyes. This seemed to him a horrible thing. "She shall have my porridge, if she likes," he said; "I don't like it very much. And I'll give her that chocolate that Mr. Jellybrand sent us. There's still some, although it's rather damp now, I expect." "How silly you are!" said Helen scornfully. "Of course, Mother will give her anything she wants." "It isn't silly," said Jeremy.
There is an unfortunate tendency on the part of our Press and stage to caricature our curates; this tendency I would willingly avoid. It should be easy enough to do, as I am writing about Polchester, a town that simply abounds and also abounded thirty years ago in curates of the most splendid and manly type. But, unfortunately, Mr. Jellybrand was not one of these.
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