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Updated: June 6, 2025
"Wasn't old Clayton a mere petty dealer in small wares. And wasn't Mrs. Clayton's father a mechanic?" "Perhaps, if some of us were to go back for a generation or two, we might trace out an ancestor who held no higher place in society," Mrs. Lemmington remarked, quietly. "I have no doubt but that I should." "I have no fears of that kind," replied Mrs. Marygold, in an exulting tone.
Lemmington. "Respectable! Everybody is getting respectable now-a-days. If they are respectable, it is very lately that they have become so. What is Mr. Clayton, I wonder, but a school-master! It's too bad that such people will come crowding themselves into genteel neighborhoods.
I will visit Mrs. Florence, and Mrs. Harwood, and such an move in good society, but as to your schoolteachers' wives and daughters, I must beg to be excused." "Every one to her taste," rejoined Mrs. Lemmington, with a smile, as she moved towards the door, where she stood for a few moments to utter some parting compliments, and then withdrew. Five minutes afterwards she was shown into Mrs.
Lemmington has just said, they are common people. Their father is nothing but a schoolmaster." "If I have observed them rightly," Mrs. Florence said to this, "I have discovered them to be a rather uncommon kind of people. Almost any one can thrum on the piano; but you will not find one in a hundred who can perform with such exquisite grace and feeling as they can.
On the contrary, there was something retiring, almost shrinking in their manner, that shunned rather than courted observation. And yet, no one, who, attracted by their sweet, modest faces, found himself by their side that did not feel inclined to linger there. "Who are those girls, Mrs. Lemmington?" asked Mrs. Marygold, meeting the lady she addressed in crossing the room.
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