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Miss Betty Barker bowed low to Miss Matty, and pursed up her mouth. She looked at me with sidelong dignity, as much as to say, although a retired milliner, she was no democrat, and understood the difference of ranks. "May I beg you to come as near half-past six to my little dwelling, as possible, Miss Matilda? Mrs Jamieson dines at five, but has kindly promised not to delay her visit beyond that time - half-past six." And with a swimming curtsey Miss Betty Barker took her leave. My prophetic soul foretold a visit that afternoon from Miss Pole, who usually came to call on Miss Matilda after any event - or indeed in sight of any event - to talk it over with her. "Miss Betty told me it was to be a choice and select few," said Miss Pole, as she and Miss Matty compared notes. "Yes, so she said. Not even Mrs Fitz-Adam." Now Mrs Fitz-Adam was the widowed sister of the Cranford surgeon, whom I have named before. Their parents were respectable farmers, content with their station. The name of these good people was Hoggins. Mr Hoggins was the Cranford doctor now; we disliked the name and considered it coarse; but, as Miss Jenkyns said, if he changed it to Piggins it would not be much better. We had hoped to discover a relationship between him and that Marchioness of Exeter whose name was Molly Hoggins; but the man, careless of his own interests, utterly ignored and denied any such relationship, although, as dear Miss Jenkyns had said, he had a sister called Mary, and the same Christian names were very apt to run in families. |
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