John Smith,staggered in mind,went out of doors and looked over the garden gate,to collect his ideas.He had not been there two minutes when wheels were heard,and a carriage and pair rolled along the road.A distinguished-looking lady,with the demeanour of a duchess,reclined within.When opposite Smiths gate she turned her head,and instantly commanded the coachman to stop.
Ah,Mr.Smith,I am glad to see you looking so well.I could not help stopping a moment to congratulate you and Mrs.Smith upon the happiness you must enjoy.Joseph,you may drive on.
And the carriage rolled away towards St.Launces.
Out rushed Mrs.Smith from behind a laurel-bush,where she had stood pondering.
Just going to touch my hat to her,said John;just for all the world as I would have to poor Lady Luxellian years ago.
Lord!who is she?
The public-house woman--whats her name?Mrs.--Mrs.--at the Falcon.
Public-house woman.The clumsiness of the Smith family!You MIGHT say the landlady of the Falcon Hotel,since we are in for politeness.The people are ridiculous enough,but give them their due.
The possibility is that Mrs.Smith was getting mollified,in spite of herself,by these remarkably friendly phenomena among the people of St.Launces.And in justice to them it was quite desirable that she should do so.The interest which the unpractised ones of this town expressed so grotesquely was genuine of its kind,and equal in intrinsic worth to the more polished smiles of larger communities.