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Updated: May 11, 2025
Francesca was hanging over a stone wall regarding a herd of cows in a pasture, and there was no possible shelter for a Mrs. Macstronachlacher within a quarter of a mile. What made the remark more unfortunate was the fact that, although she had on a different dress and bonnet, the person interrogated was the Disagreeable Woman; but Francesca is particularly slow in discerning resemblances.
We walked on and on, determined to come every day; and we settled that if we were accosted by any one, or if our innocent business were demanded, Francesca should ask, 'Does Mrs. Macstronachlacher live here, and has she any new-laid eggs? Soon the gates of the Farm appeared in sight. A speckle-breasted thrush perched on a corner of the grey wall and poured his heart out.
As they tell us the Purse-Bearer is most rigorous in arranging these functions and issuing the invitations, I presume she must be Mrs. Macstronachlacher; but if so, they marry very young in Scotland, and her skirts should really have been longer!" It is our last day in 'Scotia's darling seat, our last day in Breadalbane Terrace, our last day with Mrs.
Suddenly we heard the swish of a dress behind, and turned, conscience-stricken, though we had in nothing sinned. "Does Mrs. Macstronachlacher live here?" stammered Francesca like a parrot. It was an idiotic time and place for the question. We had certainly arranged that she should ask it, but something must be left to the judgment in such cases.
Do you still banish nowadays?" turning the battery of her eyes upon a particularly insignificant officer who was far too dazed to answer. "And did you see the child of ten who was next to me in line? She is Mrs. Macstronachlacher; at least that was the name on the card she carried, and she was thus announced.
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