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THE very Tuesday morning on which Mr Johnson was going to show the
fashions, the post-woman brought two letters to the house. I say
the post-woman, but I should say the postman's wife. He was a lame
shoemaker, a very clean, honest man, much respected in the town;
but he never brought the letters round except on unusual occasions,
such as Christmas Day or Good Friday; and on those days the
letters, which should have been delivered at eight in the morning,
did not make their appearance until two or three in the afternoon,
for every one liked poor Thomas, and gave him a welcome on these
festive occasions. He used to say, "He was welly stawed wi'
eating, for there were three or four houses where nowt would serve
'em but he must share in their breakfast;" and by the time he had
done his last breakfast, he came to some other friend who was
beginning dinner; but come what might in the way of temptation, Tom
was always sober, civil, and smiling; and, as Miss Jenkyns used to
say, it was a lesson in patience, that she doubted not would call
out that precious quality in some minds, where, but for Thomas, it
might have lain dormant and undiscovered. Patience was certainly
very dormant in Miss Jenkyns's mind. She was always expecting
letters, and always drumming on the table till the post-woman had
called or gone past. On Christmas Day and Good Friday she drummed
from breakfast till church, from church-time till two o'clock -
unless when the fire wanted stirring, when she invariably knocked
down the fire-irons, and scolded Miss Matty for it. But equally
certain was the hearty welcome and the good dinner for Thomas; Miss
Jenkyns standing over him like a bold dragoon, questioning him as
to his children - what they were doing - what school they went to;
upbraiding him if another was likely to make its appearance, but
sending even the little babies the shilling and the mince-pie which
was her gift to all the children, with half-a-crown in addition for
both father and mother. The post was not half of so much
consequence to dear Miss Matty; but not for the world would she
have diminished Thomas's welcome and his dole, though I could see
that she felt rather shy over the ceremony, which had been regarded
by Miss Jenkyns as a glorious opportunity for giving advice and
benefiting her fellow-creatures. Miss Matty would steal the money
all in a lump into his hand, as if she were ashamed of herself.
Miss Jenkyns gave him each individual coin separate, with a "There!
that's for yourself; that's for Jenny," etc. Miss Matty would even
beckon Martha out of the kitchen while he ate his food: and once,
to my knowledge, winked at its rapid disappearance into a blue
cotton pocket-handkerchief. Miss Jenkyns almost scolded him if he
did not leave a clean plate, however heaped it might have been, and
gave an injunction with every mouthful.
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