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Updated: May 31, 2025
"I have sent out S.O.S. signals for necessaries in the way of rugs and cushions. Life as bald and unadorned as it presents itself to Miss Bathgate is really not quite decent. I wish she would speak to me, but I fear she considers me beneath contempt. "What happens when you arrive in a place like Priorsford and stay in lodgings? Do you remain seated alone with your conscience, or do people call?
They are so unselfishly interested in other people's concerns; and they are grand laughers. Even the dullest warm to something approaching wit when surrounded by that appreciative audience of three. They don't talk much themselves, but they have made of listening a fine art." "Jean," said Pamela, "do you actually mean to tell me that everybody in Priorsford is nice?
There are so many pretty little houses in Priorsford, and so many kind and forthcoming landladies, it was bad luck that she should choose Hillview and Bella Bathgate. Bella is almost like a stage-caricature of a Scotswoman, so dour she is and uncompromising and she positively glories in the drab ugliness of her rooms. Ugliness means to Bella respectability; any attempt at adornment is 'daft-like.
His lordship did seem h'attentive in at The Rigs. Wouldn't it be a fine thing for Miss Jean?" Miss Bathgate suddenly had a recollection of Jean as she had seen her pass that morning a wistful face under a shabby hat. "Hut," she said, tossing her head and lying glibly. "It's ma opeenion that the Lord askit Miss Jean when he was in Priorsford, and she simply sent him to the right about."
"Lewis Elliot says Priorsford is made up of three classes the dull, the daft, and the devout." Pamela, looking for the book she wanted to lend to Jean, stopped and stood still as if arrested by the name. "Lewis Elliot!" "Yes, of Laverlaw. D'you know him, by any chance?" "I used to know a Lewis Elliot who had some connection with Priorsford, but I thought he had left it years ago."
They don't own the house, though. I hear the landlord is a very wealthy man in London. By the way, same name as yourself, sir." "Do I look like a millionaire?" asked Peter Reid, and the landlord laughed pleasantly and non-committally. The next day was sunny and Peter Reid went out for a walk. It was a different Priorsford that he had come back to.
Have you kept Priorsford lively through the Christmas-time, you and your daughter?" "Well, I was just telling Jean we've done our best. My son Gordon, and his Cambridge friends, delightful young fellows, you know, perfect gentlemen. But we did miss you and your brother. Is dear Lord Bidborough not with you?" "My brother has gone to London." "Naturally," said Mrs.
The poor people go to her in flocks, and she scolds them roundly, but always knows how to help them in the only wise way. Her people have been in Priorsford for ages; she knows every soul in the place, and is vastly amused at all the little snobberies that abound in a small town. But she laughs kindly. Pretentious people are afraid of her; simple people love her." "Am I simple, Jean?"
We would have liked to ask you and your brother I hear he's home from Oxford but you know what it is to live in a place like Priorsford: if you ask one you have to ask everybody and we decided to keep it entirely County you know what I mean?" "Oh, quite," said Jean; "I'm sure you were wise." "We were so sorry," went on Mrs.
I forget who he is it's quite a well-known family but he has been uncommonly kind to Davie. He wants him to go home with him next week, but of course Davie is keen to get back to Priorsford. Besides, you can't visit the stately homes of England on thirty shillings, and that's about Davie's limit, dear lamb! Jock and Mhor are looking forward with joy to hear him speak.
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