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Updated: May 28, 2025
"My servant attends visitors, when they leave me." A faint smell of soap made itself felt in the room; the maid appeared, wiping her smoking arms on her apron. "Door. I wish you good-morning" were the last words of Miss Wigger. Leaving the house, Linley slipped a bribe into the servant's hand. "I am going to write to Miss Westerfield," he said. "Will you see that she gets my letter?"
"Most impertinent," said Miss Wigger. Mr. Linley looked astonished. "I say, most impertinent!" Miss Wigger repeated. Mr. Linley attempted to pacify this terrible woman. "It's very stupid of me," he said; "I am afraid I don't quite understand you." "One of my teachers has issued an advertisement, and has referred to My address, without first consulting Me. Have I made myself understood, sir?"
Hardened by a life of drudgery, under conditions of perpetual scolding, the servant stood her ground, and recovered the use of her tongue. "There's a gentleman in the drawing-room," she persisted. Miss Wigger tried to interrupt her again. "And here's his card!" she shouted, in a voice that was the louder of the two.
Time only meets with flat contradiction when he ventures to tell a woman that she is growing old. Herbert Linley had rashly anticipated that the "young lady," whom it was the object of his visit to see, would prove to be young in the literal sense of the word. When he and Miss Wigger stood face to face, if the door had been set open for him, he would have left the house with the greatest pleasure.
"What a pity!" they said to each other. "She would be a pretty girl, if she didn't look so wretched and so thin." At a loss to understand the audacity of her teacher in rising before the class was dismissed, Miss Wigger began by asserting her authority. She did in two words: "Sit down!" "I wish to explain, ma'am." "Sit down." "I beg, Miss Wigger, that you will allow me to explain."
"Don't be discouraged," he whispered as she passed him; "you shall hear from me." Having said this, he made his parting bow to the schoolmistress. Miss Wigger held up a peremptory forefinger, and stopped him on his way out. He waited, wondering what she would do next. She rang the bell. "You are in the house of a gentlewoman," Miss Wigger explained.
It fitted him to such perfection that it suggested the enviable position in life which has gloves made to order. He politely pointed again. Still inaccessible to the newspaper, Miss Wigger turned her spectacles next to the front window of the room, and discovered a handsome carriage waiting at the door. She read the advertisement.
It was an interest new to Linley, in his experience of himself. The poor teacher made him think of his happy young wife at home of his pretty little girl, the spoiled child of the household. He looked at Sydney Westerfield with a heartfelt compassion which did honor to them both. "What do you mean by coming here?" Miss Wigger inquired. She answered gently, but not timidly.
Herbert Linley's good breeding was even capable of suppressing all outward expression of the dismay that he felt, on finding himself face to face with the formidable person who had received him. "What is your business, if you please?" Miss Wigger began. Men, animals, and buildings wear out with years, and submit to their hard lot.
Nobody could hear her speak, and doubt for a moment that she was an inveterately ill-natured woman. "Make your curtsey, child!" said Miss Wigger. Nature had so toned her voice as to make it worthy of the terrors of her face. But for her petticoats, it would have been certainly taken for the voice of a man. The child obeyed, trembling.
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