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Updated: May 12, 2025
Miss Janet was, in her eyes, perfection. Her children were all the better for her kind instructions. Her youngest child, Lydia, a girl of six or seven years old, followed the old lady everywhere, carrying her key and knitting-basket, looking for her spectacles, and maintaining short conversations in a confidential tone.
They had already placed their mother's knitting-basket on the table in preparation of what was to come, because they knew that she would not tell them a story without knitting at the same time. Smilingly the mother approached. "Everything is ready, I see, so I can begin right away." "Yes, and right from the start, please; from the place where the ghost first comes in."
I have been at tea with my dear pupils, the Misses Mainwaring. You may bring the lamp presently, Susan, but not quite yet; it is a pity to waste the daylight, and there is quite another quarter of an hour in which I can see to knit. Yes, give me my knitting-basket; I can get on with Widow Joseph's mittens."
She loved everything about her, and wished it need not be so very long till she could be a grandma herself, have white hair and wear snowy caps atop of it, and kerchiefs around her neck, and use gold eye-glasses and a knitting-basket. Grandma Luty, you see, was one of the dear, old-fashioned grandmothers. There are not many of them nowadays.
On the largest table, in the middle of the room, stood a smart Bible, placed exactly in the centre on a red and yellow woollen mat and at the side of the table nearest to the window, with a little knitting-basket on her lap, and a wheezing, blear-eyed old spaniel crouched at her feet, there sat an elderly woman, wearing a black net cap and a black silk gown, and having slate-coloured mittens on her hands.
By-the-bye, I must have mine in mind; it won't do to neglect her; she is a Fairfax, or wed to one; and blood is said to be thicker than water." He rang, and despatched an invitation to Mrs. Fairfax, who soon arrived, knitting-basket in hand. "Good evening, madam; I sent to you for a charitable purpose.
Phoebe, sweep up the hearth. Hang that curtain straight. Give me that letter, no, not that, the large letter. There! now put it into my knitting-basket. Make haste down, Phoebe, to be ready to open the door for Mrs Rowland. Don't keep her waiting a moment on the steps." "She has not got to the steps yet," said George. "She is talking to Mrs Grey.
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