"It's a special collection--I forget what for. I do beg, no
vulgar clinking in the plate with halfpennies; see that Minnie
has a nice bright sixpence. Where is the child? Minnie! That
book's all warped. (Gracious, how plain you look!) Put it under
the Atlas to press. Minnie!"
"Oh, Mrs. Honeychurch--" from the upper regions.
"Minnie, don't be late. Here comes the horse" --it was always the
horse, never the carriage. "Where's Charlotte? Run up and hurry
her. Why is she so long? She had nothing to do. She never brings
anything but blouses. Poor Charlotte-- How I do detest blouses!
Minnie!"
Paganism is infectious--more infectious than diphtheria or piety
--and the Rector's niece was taken to church protesting. As
usual, she didn't see why. Why shouldn't she sit in the sun with
the young men? The young men, who had now appeared, mocked her
with ungenerous words. Mrs. Honeychurch defended orthodoxy, and
in the midst of the confusion Miss Bartlett, dressed in the very
height of the fashion, came strolling down the stairs.
Pages:
253
254
255
256
257
258
259
260
261
262
263
264
265
266
267
268
269
270
271
272
273
274
275
276
277