��Well, if I may be allowed to speak, and it��s
seldom as I am,�� said Mrs. Glegg, with a tone of bitter meaning,
��I should like to know what good is to come to the boy by
bringin�� him up above his fortin.��
It was Easter
week, and Mrs. Tulliver��s cheesecakes were more exquisitely light than
usual. ��A puff o�� wind ��ud make
��em blow about like feathers,�� Kezia the housemaid
said, feeling proud to live under a mistress who could make such pastry; so that no
season or circumstances could have been more propitious for a family party, even if
it had not been advisable to consult sister Glegg and sister Pullet about
Tom��s going to school.
no kin o�� yours, nor much acquaintance as I��ve ever
heared of,�� said Mrs. Glegg, who always cried just as much as was
proper when anything happened to her own ��kin,�� but not
on other occasions.
��Mr. Glegg,�� said Mrs. G., in
a tone which implied that her indignation would fizz and ooze a little, though she
was determined to keep it corked up, ��you��d far better
hold your tongue. Mr. Tulliver doesn��t want to know your opinion nor
mine either. There��s folks in the world as know better than
But while he was speaking, Mr. Tulliver,
who had by no means said enough to satisfy his anger, burst out again.
��I should think it is bad,�� said Mrs. Glegg.
��Things are come to a fine pass when one sister invites the other to
her house o�� purpose to quarrel with her and abuse
On Wednesday, the day before the aunts and
uncles were coming, there were such various and suggestive scents, as of plumcakes in
the oven and jellies in the hot state, mingled with the aroma of gravy, that it was
impossible to feel altogether gloomy: there was hope in the air. Tom and Maggie made
several inroads into the kitchen, and, like other marauders, were induced to keep
aloof for a time only by being allowed to carry away a sufficient load of booty.
Mrs. Pullet was silent, having to finish her crying, and rather flattered than
indignant at being upbraided for crying too much. It was not everybody who could
afford to cry so much about their neighbors who had left them nothing; but Mrs.
Pullet had married a gentleman farmer, and had leisure and money to carry her crying
and everything else to the highest pitch of respectability.
��Why, I should think that��s you, if
we��re to trust your own tale,�� said Mr. Tulliver,
beginning to boil up again.