The Mill on the Floss

by George Eliot

  Chapter IX

  To Garum Firs

  While the possible troubles of Maggie's future were occupying herfather's mind, she herself was tasting only the bitterness of thepresent. Childhood has no forebodings; but then, it is soothed by nomemories of outlived sorrow.

  The fact was, the day had begun ill with Maggie. The pleasure ofhaving Lucy to look at, and the prospect of the afternoon visit toGarum Firs, where she would hear uncle Pullet's musical box, had beenmarred as early as eleven o'clock by the advent of the hair-dresserfrom St. Ogg's, who had spoken in the severest terms of the conditionin which he had found her hair, holding up one jagged lock afteranother and saying, "See here! tut, tut, tut!" in a tone of mingleddisgust and pity, which to Maggie's imagination was equivalent to thestrongest expression of public opinion. Mr. Rappit, the hair-dresser,with his well-anointed coronal locks tending wavily upward, like thesimulated pyramid of flame on a monumental urn, seemed to her at thatmoment the most formidable of her contemporaries, into whose street atSt. Ogg's she would carefully refrain from entering through the restof her life.

  Moreover, the preparation for a visit being always a serious affair inthe Dodson family, Martha was enjoined to have Mrs. Tulliver's roomready an hour earlier than usual, that the laying out of the bestclothes might not be deferred till the last moment, as was sometimesthe case in families of lax views, where the ribbon-strings were neverrolled up, where there was little or no wrapping in silver paper, andwhere the sense that the Sunday clothes could be got at quite easilyproduced no shock to the mind. Already, at twelve o'clock, Mrs.Tulliver had on her visiting costume, with a protective apparatus ofbrown holland, as if she had been a piece of satin furniture in dangerof flies; Maggie was frowning and twisting her shoulders, that shemight if possible shrink away from the prickliest of tuckers, whileher mother was remonstrating, "Don't, Maggie, my dear; don't makeyourself so ugly!" and Tom's cheeks were looking particularlybrilliant as a relief to his best blue suit, which he wore withbecoming calmness, having, after a little wrangling, effected what wasalways the one point of interest to him in his toilet: he hadtransferred all the contents of his every-day pockets to thoseactually in wear.

  As for Lucy, she was just as pretty and neat as she had beenyesterday; no accidents ever happened to her clothes, and she wasnever uncomfortable in them, so that she looked with wondering pity atMaggie, pouting and writhing under the exasperating tucker. Maggiewould certainly have torn it off, if she had not been checked by theremembrance of her recent humiliation about her hair; as it was, sheconfined herself to fretting and twisting, and behaving peevishlyabout the card-houses which they were allowed to build till dinner, asa suitable amusement for boys and girls in their best clothes. Tomcould build perfect pyramids of houses; but Maggie's would never bearthe laying on the roof. It was always so with the things that Maggiemade; and Tom had deduced the conclusion that no girls could ever makeanything. But it happened that Lucy proved wonderfully clever atbuilding; she handled the cards so lightly, and moved so gently, thatTom condescended to admire her houses as well as his own, the morereadily because she had asked him to teach her. Maggie, too, wouldhave admired Lucy's houses, and would have given up her ownunsuccessful building to contemplate them, without ill temper, if hertucker had not made her peevish, and if Tom had not inconsideratelylaughed when her houses fell, and told her she was "a stupid."

  "Don't laugh at me, Tom!" she burst out angrily; "I'm not a stupid. Iknow a great many things you don't."

  "Oh, I dare say, Miss Spitfire! I'd never be such a cross thing asyou, making faces like that. Lucy doesn't do so. I like Lucy betterthan you; _I_ wish Lucy was _my_ sister."

  "Then it's very wicked and cruel of you to wish so," said Maggie,starting up hurriedly from her place on the floor, and upsetting Tom'swonderful pagoda. She really did not mean it, but the circumstantialevidence was against her, and Tom turned white with anger, but saidnothing; he would have struck her, only he knew it was cowardly tostrike a girl, and Tom Tulliver was quite determined he would never doanything cowardly.

  Maggie stood in dismay and terror, while Tom got up from the floor andwalked away, pale, from the scattered ruins of his pagoda, and Lucylooked on mutely, like a kitten pausing from its lapping.

  "Oh, Tom," said Maggie, at last, going half-way toward him, "I didn'tmean to knock it down, indeed, indeed I didn't."

  Tom took no notice of her, but took, instead, two or three hard peasout of his pocket, and shot them with his thumbnail against thewindow, vaguely at first, but presently with the distinct aim ofhitting a superannuated blue-bottle which was exposing its imbecilityin the spring sunshine, clearly against the views of Nature, who hadprovided Tom and the peas for the speedy destruction of this weakindividual.

  Thus the morning had been made heavy to Maggie, and Tom's persistentcoldness to her all through their walk spoiled the fresh air andsunshine for her. He called Lucy to look at the half-built bird's nestwithout caring to show it Maggie, and peeled a willow switch for Lucyand himself, without offering one to Maggie. Lucy had said, "Maggie,shouldn't _you_ like one?" but Tom was deaf.

  Still, the sight of the peacock opportunely spreading his tail on thestackyard wall, just as they reached Garum Firs, was enough to divertthe mind temporarily from personal grievances. And this was only thebeginning of beautiful sights at Garum Firs. All the farmyard life waswonderful there,--bantams, speckled and top-knotted; Friesland hens,with their feathers all turned the wrong way; Guinea-fowls that flewand screamed and dropped their pretty spotted feathers; pouter-pigeonsand a tame magpie; nay, a goat, and a wonderful brindled dog, halfmastiff, half bull-dog, as large as a lion. Then there were whiterailings and white gates all about, and glittering weathercocks ofvarious design, and garden-walks paved with pebbles in beautifulpatterns,--nothing was quite common at Garum Firs; and Tom thoughtthat the unusual size of the toads there was simply due to the generalunusualness which characterized uncle Pullet's possessions as agentleman farmer. Toads who paid rent were naturally leaner. As forthe house, it was not less remarkable; it had a receding centre, andtwo wings with battlemented turrets, and was covered with glitteringwhite stucco.

  Uncle Pullet had seen the expected party approaching from the window,and made haste to unbar and unchain the front door, kept always inthis fortified condition from fear of tramps, who might be supposed toknow of the glass case of stuffed birds in the hall, and tocontemplate rushing in and carrying it away on their heads. AuntPullet, too, appeared at the doorway, and as soon as her sister waswithin hearing said, "Stop the children, for God's sake! Bessy; don'tlet 'em come up the door-steps; Sally's bringing the old mat and theduster, to rub their shoes."

  Mrs. Pullet's front-door mats were by no means intended to wipe shoeson the very scraper had a deputy to do its dirty work. Tom rebelledparticularly against this shoewiping, which he always considered inthe light of an indignity to his sex. He felt it as the beginning ofthe disagreeables incident to a visit at aunt Pullet's, where he hadonce been compelled to sit with towels wrapped round his boots; a factwhich may serve to correct the too-hasty conclusion that a visit toGarum Firs must have been a great treat to a young gentleman fond ofanimals,--fond, that is, of throwing stones at them.

  The next disagreeable was confined to his feminine companions; it wasthe mounting of the polished oak stairs, which had very handsomecarpets rolled up and laid by in a spare bedroom, so that the ascentof these glossy steps might have served, in barbarous times, as atrial by ordeal from which none but the most spotless virtue couldhave come off with unbroken limbs. Sophy's weakness about thesepolished stairs was always a subject of bitter remonstrance on Mrs.Glegg's part; but Mrs. Tulliver ventured on no comment, only thinkingto herself it was a mercy when she and the children were safe on thelanding.

  "Mrs. Gray has sent home my new bonnet, Bessy," said Mrs. Pullet, in apathetic tone, as Mrs. Tulliver adjusted her cap.

  "Has she, sister?" said Mrs. Tulliver, with an air of much interest."And how do you like it?"
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  "It's apt to make a mess with clothes, taking 'em out and putting 'emin again," said Mrs. Pullet, drawing a bunch of keys from her pocketand looking at them earnestly, "but it 'ud be a pity for you to goaway without seeing it. There's no knowing what may happen."

  Mrs. Pullet shook her head slowly at this last serious consideration,which determined her to single out a particular key.

  "I'm afraid it'll be troublesome to you getting it out, sister," saidMrs. Tulliver; "but I _should_ like to see what sort of a crown she'smade you."

  Mrs. Pullet rose with a melancholy air and unlocked one wing of a verybright wardrobe, where you may have hastily supposed she would find anew bonnet. Not at all. Such a supposition could only have arisen froma too-superficial acquaintance with the habits of the Dodson family.In this wardrobe Mrs. Pullet was seeking something small enough to behidden among layers of linen,--it was a door-key.

  "You must come with me into the best room," said Mrs. Pullet.

  "May the children come too, sister?" inquired Mrs. Tulliver, who sawthat Maggie and Lucy were looking rather eager.

  "Well," said aunt Pullet, reflectively, "it'll perhaps be safer for'em to come; they'll be touching something if we leave 'em behind."

  So they went in procession along the bright and slippery corridor,dimly lighted by the semi-lunar top of the window which rose above theclosed shutter; it was really quite solemn. Aunt Pullet paused andunlocked a door which opened on something still more solemn than thepassage,--a darkened room, in which the outer light, entering feebly,showed what looked like the corpses of furniture in white shrouds.Everything that was not shrouded stood with its legs upward. Lucy laidhold of Maggie's frock, and Maggie's heart beat rapidly.

  Aunt Pullet half-opened the shutter and then unlocked the wardrobe,with a melancholy deliberateness which was quite in keeping with thefunereal solemnity of the scene. The delicious scent of rose-leavesthat issued from the wardrobe made the process of taking out sheetafter sheet of silver paper quite pleasant to assist at, though thesight of the bonnet at last was an anticlimax to Maggie, who wouldhave preferred something more strikingly preternatural. But few thingscould have been more impressive to Mrs. Tulliver. She looked all roundit in silence for some moments, and then said emphatically, "Well,sister, I'll never speak against the full crowns again!"

  It was a great concession, and Mrs. Pullet felt it; she felt somethingwas due to it.

  "You'd like to see it on, sister?" she said sadly. "I'll open theshutter a bit further."

  "Well, if you don't mind taking off your cap, sister," said Mrs.Tulliver.

  Mrs. Pullet took off her cap, displaying the brown silk scalp with ajutting promontory of curls which was common to the more mature andjudicious women of those times, and placing the bonnet on her head,turned slowly round, like a draper's lay-figure, that Mrs. Tullivermight miss no point of view.

  "I've sometimes thought there's a loop too much o' ribbon on this leftside, sister; what do you think?" said Mrs. Pullet.

  Mrs. Tulliver looked earnestly at the point indicated, and turned herhead on one side. "Well, I think it's best as it is; if you meddledwith it, sister, you might repent."

  "That's true," said aunt Pullet, taking off the bonnet and looking atit contemplatively.

  "How much might she charge you for that bonnet, sister?" said Mrs.Tulliver, whose mind was actively engaged on the possibility ofgetting a humble imitation of this _chef-d'oeuvre_ made from a pieceof silk she had at home.

  Mrs. Pullet screwed up her mouth and shook her head, and thenwhispered, "Pullet pays for it; he said I was to have the best bonnetat Garum Church, let the next best be whose it would."

  She began slowly to adjust the trimmings, in preparation for returningit to its place in the wardrobe, and her thoughts seemed to have takena melancholy turn, for she shook her head.

  "Ah," she said at last, "I may never wear it twice, sister; whoknows?"

  "Don't talk o' that sister," answered Mrs. Tulliver. "I hope you'llhave your health this summer."

  "Ah! but there may come a death in the family, as there did soon afterI had my green satin bonnet. Cousin Abbott may go, and we can't thinko' wearing crape less nor half a year for him."

  "That _would_ be unlucky," said Mrs. Tulliver, entering thoroughlyinto the possibility of an inopportune decease. "There's never so muchpleasure i' wearing a bonnet the second year, especially when thecrowns are so chancy,--never two summers alike."

  "Ah, it's the way i' this world," said Mrs. Pullet, returning thebonnet to the wardrobe and locking it up. She maintained a silencecharacterized by head-shaking, until they had all issued from thesolemn chamber and were in her own room again. Then, beginning to cry,she said, "Sister, if you should never see that bonnet again till I'mdead and gone, you'll remember I showed it you this day."

  Mrs. Tulliver felt that she ought to be affected, but she was a womanof sparse tears, stout and healthy; she couldn't cry so much as hersister Pullet did, and had often felt her deficiency at funerals. Hereffort to bring tears into her eyes issued in an odd contraction ofher face. Maggie, looking on attentively, felt that there was somepainful mystery about her aunt's bonnet which she was considered tooyoung to understand; indignantly conscious, all the while, that shecould have understood that, as well as everything else, if she hadbeen taken into confidence.

  When they went down, uncle Pullet observed, with some acumen, that hereckoned the missis had been showing her bonnet,--that was what hadmade them so long upstairs. With Tom the interval had seemed stilllonger, for he had been seated in irksome constraint on the edge of asofa directly opposite his uncle Pullet, who regarded him withtwinkling gray eyes, and occasionally addressed him as "Young sir."

  "Well, young sir, what do you learn at school?" was a standingquestion with uncle Pullet; whereupon Tom always looked sheepish,rubbed his hands across his face, and answered, "I don't know." It wasaltogether so embarrassing to be seated _tete-a-tete_ with unclePullet, that Tom could not even look at the prints on the walls, orthe flycages, or the wonderful flower-pots; he saw nothing but hisuncle's gaiters. Not that Tom was in awe of his uncle's mentalsuperiority; indeed, he had made up his mind that he didn't want to bea gentleman farmer, because he shouldn't like to be such athin-legged, silly fellow as his uncle Pullet,--a molly-coddle, infact. A boy's sheepishness is by no means a sign of overmasteringreverence; and while you are making encouraging advances to him underthe idea that he is overwhelmed by a sense of your age and wisdom, tento one he is thinking you extremely queer. The only consolation I cansuggest to you is, that the Greek boys probably thought the same ofAristotle. It is only when you have mastered a restive horse, orthrashed a drayman, or have got a gun in your hand, that these shyjuniors feel you to be a truly admirable and enviable character. Atleast, I am quite sure of Tom Tulliver's sentiments on these points.In very tender years, when he still wore a lace border under hisoutdoor cap, he was often observed peeping through the bars of a gateand making minatory gestures with his small forefinger while hescolded the sheep with an inarticulate burr, intended to strike terrorinto their astonished minds; indicating thus early that desire formastery over the inferior animals, wild and domestic, includingcockchafers, neighbors' dogs, and small sisters, which in all ages hasbeen an attribute of so much promise for the fortunes of our race.Now, Mr. Pullet never rode anything taller than a low pony, and wasthe least predatory of men, considering firearms dangerous, as apt togo off of themselves by nobody's particular desire. So that Tom wasnot without strong reasons when, in confidential talk with a chum, hehad described uncle Pullet as a nincompoop, taking care at the sametime to observe that he was a very "rich fellow."

  The only alleviating circumstance in a _tete-a-tete_ with uncle Pulletwas that he kept a variety of lozenges and peppermint-drops about hisperson, and when at a loss for conversation, he filled up the void byproposing a mutual solace of this kind.

  "Do you like peppermints, young sir?" required only a tacit answerwhen it was accompanied by a presentat
ion of the article in question.

  The appearance of the little girls suggested to uncle Pullet thefurther solace of small sweet-cakes, of which he also kept a stockunder lock and key for his own private eating on wet days; but thethree children had no sooner got the tempting delicacy between theirfingers, than aunt Pullet desired them to abstain from eating it tillthe tray and the plates came, since with those crisp cakes they wouldmake the floor "all over" crumbs. Lucy didn't mind that much, for thecake was so pretty, she thought it was rather a pity to eat it; butTom, watching his opportunity while the elders were talking, hastilystowed it in his mouth at two bites, and chewed it furtively. As forMaggie, becoming fascinated, as usual, by a print of Ulysses andNausicaa, which uncle Pullet had bought as a "pretty Scripture thing,"she presently let fall her cake, and in an unlucky movement crushed itbeneath her foot,--a source of so much agitation to aunt Pullet andconscious disgrace to Maggie, that she began to despair of hearing themusical snuff-box to-day, till, after some reflection, it occurred toher that Lucy was in high favor enough to venture on asking for atune. So she whispered to Lucy; and Lucy, who always did what she wasdesired to do, went up quietly to her uncle's knee, and blush-all overher neck while she fingered her necklace, said, "Will you please playus a tune, uncle?"

  Lucy thought it was by reason of some exceptional talent in unclePullet that the snuff-box played such beautiful tunes, and indeed thething was viewed in that light by the majority of his neighbors inGarum. Mr. Pullet had _bought_ the box, to begin with, and heunderstood winding it up, and knew which tune it was going to playbeforehand; altogether the possession of this unique "piece of music"was a proof that Mr. Pullet's character was not of that entire nullitywhich might otherwise have been attributed to it. But uncle Pullet,when entreated to exhibit his accomplishment, never depreciated it bya too-ready consent. "We'll see about it," was the answer he alwaysgave, carefully abstaining from any sign of compliance till a suitablenumber of minutes had passed. Uncle Pullet had a programme for allgreat social occasions, and in this way fenced himself in from muchpainful confusion and perplexing freedom of will.

  Perhaps the suspense did heighten Maggie's enjoyment when the fairytune began; for the first time she quite forgot that she had a load onher mind, that Tom was angry with her; and by the time "Hush, yepretty warbling choir," had been played, her face wore that brightlook of happiness, while she sat immovable with her hands clasped,which sometimes comforted her mother with the sense that Maggie couldlook pretty now and then, in spite of her brown skin. But when themagic music ceased, she jumped up, and running toward Tom, put her armround his neck and said, "Oh, Tom, isn't it pretty?"

  Lest you should think it showed a revolting insensibility in Tom thathe felt any new anger toward Maggie for this uncalled-for and, to him,inexplicable caress, I must tell you that he had his glass of cowslipwine in his hand, and that she jerked him so as to make him spill halfof it. He must have been an extreme milksop not to say angrily, "Lookthere, now!" especially when his resentment was sanctioned, as it was,by general disapprobation of Maggie's behavior.

  "Why don't you sit still, Maggie?" her mother said peevishly.

  "Little gells mustn't come to see me if they behave in that way," saidaunt Pullet.

  "Why, you're too rough, little miss," said uncle Pullet.

  Poor Maggie sat down again, with the music all chased out of her soul,and the seven small demons all in again.

  Mrs. Tulliver, foreseeing nothing but misbehavior while the childrenremained indoors, took an early opportunity of suggesting that, nowthey were rested after their walk, they might go and play out ofdoors; and aunt Pullet gave permission, only enjoining them not to gooff the paved walks in the garden, and if they wanted to see thepoultry fed, to view them from a distance on the horse-block; arestriction which had been imposed ever since Tom had been foundguilty of running after the peacock, with an illusory idea that frightwould make one of its feathers drop off.

  Mrs. Tulliver's thoughts had been temporarily diverted from thequarrel with Mrs. Glegg by millinery and maternal cares, but now thegreat theme of the bonnet was thrown into perspective, and thechildren were out of the way, yesterday's anxieties recurred.

  "It weighs on my mind so as never was," she said, by way of openingthe subject, "sister Glegg's leaving the house in that way. I'm sureI'd no wish t' offend a sister."

  "Ah," said aunt Pullet, "there's no accounting for what Jane 'ull do.I wouldn't speak of it out o' the family, if it wasn't to Dr.Turnbull; but it's my belief Jane lives too low. I've said so toPullet often and often, and he knows it."

  "Why, you said so last Monday was a week, when we came away fromdrinking tea with 'em," said Mr. Pullet, beginning to nurse his kneeand shelter it with his pocket-hand-kerchief, as was his way when theconversation took an interesting turn.

  "Very like I did," said Mrs. Pullet, "for you remember when I saidthings, better than I can remember myself. He's got a wonderfulmemory, Pullet has," she continued, looking pathetically at hersister. "I should be poorly off if he was to have a stroke, for healways remembers when I've got to take my doctor's stuff; and I'mtaking three sorts now."

  "There's the 'pills as before' every other night, and the new drops ateleven and four, and the 'fervescing mixture 'when agreeable,'"rehearsed Mr. Pullet, with a punctuation determined by a lozenge onhis tongue.

  "Ah, perhaps it 'ud be better for sister Glegg if _she'd_ go to thedoctor sometimes, instead o' chewing Turkey rhubarb whenever there'sanything the matter with her," said Mrs. Tulliver, who naturally sawthe wide subject of medicine chiefly in relation to Mrs. Glegg.

  "It's dreadful to think on," said aunt Pullet, raising her hands andletting them fall again, "people playing with their own insides inthat way! And it's flying i' the face o' Providence; for what are thedoctors for, if we aren't to call 'em in? And when folks have got themoney to pay for a doctor, it isn't respectable, as I've told Janemany a time. I'm ashamed of acquaintance knowing it."

  "Well, _we've_ no call to be ashamed," said Mr. Pullet, "for DoctorTurnbull hasn't got such another patient as you i' this parish, nowold Mrs. Sutton's gone."

  "Pullet keeps all my physic-bottles, did you know, Bessy?" said Mrs.Pullet. "He won't have one sold. He says it's nothing but right folksshould see 'em when I'm gone. They fill two o' the long store-roomshelves a'ready; but," she added, beginning to cry a little, "it'swell if they ever fill three. I may go before I've made up the dozeno' these last sizes. The pill-boxes are in the closet in myroom,--you'll remember that, sister,--but there's nothing to show forthe boluses, if it isn't the bills."

  "Don't talk o' your going, sister," said Mrs. Tulliver; "I should havenobody to stand between me and sister Glegg if you was gone. Andthere's nobody but you can get her to make it up with Mr. Tulliver,for sister Deane's never o' my side, and if she was, it's not to belooked for as she can speak like them as have got an independentfortin."

  "Well, your husband _is_ awk'ard, you know, Bessy," said Mrs. Pullet,good-naturedly ready to use her deep depression on her sister'saccount as well as her own. "He's never behaved quite so pretty to ourfamily as he should do, and the children take after him,--the boy'svery mischievous, and runs away from his aunts and uncles, and thegell's rude and brown. It's your bad luck, and I'm sorry for you,Bessy; for you was allays my favorite sister, and we allays liked thesame patterns."

  "I know Tulliver's hasty, and says odd things," said Mrs. Tulliver,wiping away one small tear from the corner of her eye; "but I'm surehe's never been the man, since he married me, to object to my makingthe friends o' my side o' the family welcome to the house."

  "_I_ don't want to make the worst of you, Bessy," said Mrs. Pullet,compassionately, "for I doubt you'll have trouble enough without that;and your husband's got that poor sister and her children hanging onhim,--and so given to lawing, they say. I doubt he'll leave you poorlyoff when he dies. Not as I'd have it said out o' the family."

  This view of her position was naturally far from cheering to Mrs.Tulliv
er. Her imagination was not easily acted on, but she could nothelp thinking that her case was a hard one, since it appeared thatother people thought it hard.

  "I'm sure, sister, I can't help myself," she said, urged by the fearlest her anticipated misfortunes might be held retributive, to takecomprehensive review of her past conduct. "There's no woman strivesmore for her children; and I'm sure at scouring-time this Lady-day asI've had all the bedhangings taken down I did as much as the two gellsput together; and there's the last elder-flower wine I'vemade--beautiful! I allays offer it along with the sherry, thoughsister Glegg will have it I'm so extravagant; and as for liking tohave my clothes tidy, and not go a fright about the house, there'snobody in the parish can say anything against me in respect o'backbiting and making mischief, for I don't wish anybody any harm; andnobody loses by sending me a porkpie, for my pies are fit to show withthe best o' my neighbors'; and the linen's so in order as if I was todie to-morrow I shouldn't be ashamed. A woman can do no more nor shecan."

  "But it's all o' no use, you know, Bessy," said Mrs. Pullet, holdingher head on one side, and fixing her eyes pathetically on her sister,"if your husband makes away with his money. Not but what if you wassold up, and other folks bought your furniture, it's a comfort tothink as you've kept it well rubbed. And there's the linen, with yourmaiden mark on, might go all over the country. It 'ud be a sad pityfor our family." Mrs. Pullet shook her head slowly.

  "But what can I do, sister?" said Mrs. Tulliver. "Mr. Tulliver's not aman to be dictated to,--not if I was to go to the parson and get byheart what I should tell my husband for the best. And I'm sure I don'tpretend to know anything about putting out money and all that. I couldnever see into men's business as sister Glegg does."

  "Well, you're like me in that, Bessy," said Mrs. Pullet; "and I thinkit 'ud be a deal more becoming o' Jane if she'd have that pier-glassrubbed oftener,--there was ever so many spots on it lastweek,--instead o' dictating to folks as have more comings in than sheever had, and telling 'em what they're to do with their money. ButJane and me were allays contrairy; she _would_ have striped things,and I like spots. You like a spot too, Bessy; we allays hung togetheri' that."

  "Yes, Sophy," said Mrs. Tulliver, "I remember our having a blue groundwith a white spot both alike,--I've got a bit in a bed-quilt now; andif you would but go and see sister Glegg, and persuade her to make itup with Tulliver, I should take it very kind of you. You was allays agood sister to me."

  "But the right thing 'ud be for Tulliver to go and make it up with herhimself, and say he was sorry for speaking so rash. If he's borrowedmoney of her, he shouldn't be above that," said Mrs. Pullet, whosepartiality did not blind her to principles; she did not forget whatwas due to people of independent fortune.

  "It's no use talking o' that," said poor Mrs. Tulliver, almostpeevishly. "If I was to go down on my bare knees on the gravel toTulliver, he'd never humble himself."

  "Well, you can't expect me to persuade _Jane_ to beg pardon," saidMrs. Pullet. "Her temper's beyond everything; it's well if it doesn'tcarry her off her mind, though there never _was_ any of our familywent to a madhouse."

  "I'm not thinking of her begging pardon," said Mrs. Tulliver. "But ifshe'd just take no notice, and not call her money in; as it's not somuch for one sister to ask of another; time 'ud mend things, andTulliver 'ud forget all about it, and they'd be friends again."

  Mrs. Tulliver, you perceive, was not aware of her husband'sirrevocable determination to pay in the five hundred pounds; at leastsuch a determination exceeded her powers of belief.

  "Well, Bessy," said Mrs. Pullet, mournfully, "_I_ don't want to helpyou on to ruin. I won't be behindhand i' doing you a good turn, if itis to be done. And I don't like it said among acquaintance as we'vegot quarrels in the family. I shall tell Jane that; and I don't minddriving to Jane's tomorrow, if Pullet doesn't mind. What do you say,Mr. Pullet?"

  "I've no objections," said Mr. Pullet, who was perfectly contentedwith any course the quarrel might take, so that Mr. Tulliver did notapply to _him_ for money. Mr. Pullet was nervous about hisinvestments, and did not see how a man could have any security for hismoney unless he turned it into land.

  After a little further discussion as to whether it would not be betterfor Mrs. Tulliver to accompany them on a visit to sister Glegg, Mrs.Pullet, observing that it was tea-time, turned to reach from a drawera delicate damask napkin, which she pinned before her in the fashionof an apron. The door did, in fact, soon open, but instead of thetea-tray, Sally introduced an object so startling that both Mrs.Pullet and Mrs. Tulliver gave a scream, causing uncle Pullet toswallow his lozenge--for the fifth time in his life, as he afterwardnoted.