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Updated: May 24, 2025
Why, SHE WRITES MY SERMONS FOR ME OFTEN, and a very good job she makes of them! 'She can do anything. 'She can do that. The little rascal has the very trick of the trade. But, mind you, Smith, not a word about it to her, not a single word! 'Not a word, said Smith. 'Look there, said Mr. Swancourt. 'What do you think of my roofing? He pointed with his walking-stick at the chancel roof,
Beyond this rather quaint array of stone and metal Mrs. Swancourt wore no ornament whatever. Elfride had been favourably impressed with Mrs. Troyton at their meeting about two months earlier; but to be pleased with a woman as a momentary acquaintance was different from being taken with her as a stepmother. However, the suspension of feeling was but for a moment. Elfride decided to like her still.
'Come in, William, said John Smith. 'We don't kill a pig every day. And you, likewise, Mrs. Worm. I make ye welcome. Since ye left Parson Swancourt, William, I don't see much of 'ee. 'No, for to tell the truth, since I took to the turn-pike-gate line, I've been out but little, coming to church o' Sundays not being my duty now, as 'twas in a parson's family, you see.
'The church restorers have done it! said Elfride. At this minute Mr. Swancourt was seen approaching them. He came up with a bustling demeanour, apparently much engrossed by some business in hand. 'We have got the tower down! he exclaimed. 'It came rather quicker than we intended it should. The first idea was to take it down stone by stone, you know.
'On my return, sir, will you kindly grant me a few minutes' private conversation? 'Certainly. Though antecedently it does not seem possible that there can be anything of the nature of private business between us. Mr. Swancourt put on his straw hat, crossed the drawing-room, into which the moonlight was shining, and stepped out of the French window into the verandah.
'I am Miss Swancourt, said Elfride. Her constraint was over.
Out bounded a pair of little girls, lightly yet warmly dressed. Their eyes were sparkling; their hair swinging about and around; their red mouths laughing with unalloyed gladness. 'Ah, Miss Swancourt: dearest Elfie! we heard you. Are you going to stay here? You are our little mamma, are you not our big mamma is gone to London, said one.
We gaze upon the spectacle, at six o'clock on this midsummer afternoon, in a melon-frame atmosphere and beneath a violet sky. The Swancourt equipage formed one in the stream. Mrs. Swancourt was a talker of talk of the incisive kind, which her low musical voice the only beautiful point in the old woman prevented from being wearisome.
Swancourt by daylight showed himself to be a man who, in common with the other two people under his roof, had really strong claims to be considered handsome, handsome, that is, in the sense in which the moon is bright: the ravines and valleys which, on a close inspection, are seen to diversify its surface being left out of the argument.
'John Smith, the master-mason? cried Stephen hurriedly. 'Ay, no other; and a better-hearted man God A'mighty never made. 'Is he so much hurt? 'I have heard, said Mr. Swancourt, not noticing Stephen, 'that he has a son in London, a very promising young fellow. 'Oh, how he must be hurt! repeated Stephen. 'A beetle couldn't hurt very little.
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