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Updated: May 4, 2025
These three were the aristocracy of the court-room; they knew it; Samuel Povey knew it; everybody knew it, and felt it. The barrister brought an unexceptionable zeal to the performance of his duties; be referred in suitable terms to Daniel's character and high position in the town, but nothing could hide the fact that for him too his client was a petty tradesman accused of simple murder.
Povey. Samuel and Constance were bidden to the large hall of the Wedgwood Institution of a summer afternoon, and they saw the whole Board of Governors raised on a rostrum, and in the middle, in front of what he referred to, in his aristocratic London accent, as 'a beggarly array of rewards, the aged and celebrated Sir Thomas Wilbraham Wilbraham, ex-M.P., last respectable member of his ancient line.
When he successfully covered the parcel at one corner it burst out at another, and this went on for ever, and he could never get the string on. Nevertheless, Mr. Povey had unabated confidence in his skill as a parcel-wrapper. The boy was strangely subtle at times, but then at times he was astoundingly ingenuous, and then his dodges would not deceive the dullest. Mr.
Mrs. Baines's attitude, when not disdainful, was inimical! So curious is human nature, so blind is man to his own advantage! Life was very complex for Mr. Povey. It might have been less complex had Bristol board and Chinese ink been less expensive; with these materials he could have achieved marvels to silence all prejudice and stupidity; but they were too costly.
"What'll ye run to?" "Oh," said Mr. Povey, largely, "I don't know." "Will ye run to a tenner?" "I thought of something cheaper." "Well, hoo much? Out wi' it, mester." "Not more than two pounds," said Mr. Povey. He would have said one pound had he dared. The prices of dogs amazed him. "I thowt it was a dog as ye wanted!" said Boon. "Look 'ere, mester. Come up to my yard and see what I've got."
She brings him no supper to-night. He calls out. No answer. Then he gets up to go down-stairs and see what's happened, and he slips on th' stairs and breaks his knee, or puts it out or summat. Sat there hours, seemingly! Couldn't walk neither up nor down." "And was your wife was Mrs.?" "Dead drunk in the parlour, Sam'l." "But the servant?" "Servant!" Daniel Povey laughed.
There was: a figure swathed in an ulster, a maud over the ulster, and a high hat on the top of all. It could not have been there very long, because it was only speckled with snow. Mr. Povey plunged forward. "It's Mr. Scales, of all people!" said Mr. Povey. "Mr. Scales!" cried Mrs. Baines. And, "Mr. Scales!" murmured Sophia, terribly afraid. Perhaps she was afraid of miracles. Mr.
Somehow, he contrived to be talking of Christmas. Only a person of Samuel's native clumsiness would have mentioned Christmas in July. "You know you'll spend Christmas with us!" said he into the waggonette. "Indeed I shan't!" replied Mrs. Baines. "Aunt Harriet and I will expect you at Axe. We've already settled that." Mr. Povey bridled. "Oh no!" he protested, hurt by this summariness.
Povey should have ultimate rule over her house and shop? It was a pew-ful that belied its highly satisfactory appearance. Sophia alone, in the corner next to the wall, with her beautiful stern face pressed convulsively against her hands, was truly busy with immortal things. Turbulent heart, the violence of her spiritual life had made her older!
She felt that she was gaining ground. "Because I can't stay on here indefinitely as things are," Mr. Povey burst out, and there was a touch of hysteria in his tone. "Now, Mr. Povey, please do be reasonable." "That's all very well," he went on. "That's all very well.
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