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II. Mistress Mary QuIte Contrary
Hewon’tseepeople.Mostofthetimehegoesaway,andwhenheisatMisselthwaiteheshutshimselfupintheWestWingandwon’tletanyonebutPitcherseehim.Pitcher’sanoldfellow,buthetookcareofhimwhenhewasachildandheknowshisways.”
ItsoundedlikesomethinginabookanditdidnotmakeMaryfeelcheerful.Ahousewithahundredrooms,nearlyallshutupandwiththeirdoorslocked—ahouseontheedgeofamoor—whatsoeveramoorwas—soundeddreary.Amanwithacrookedbackwhoshuthimselfupalso!Shestaredoutofthewindowwithherlipspinchedtogether,anditseemedquitenaturalthattherainshouldhavebeguntopourdowningrayslantinglinesandsplashandstreamdownthewindow-panes.Iftheprettywifehadbeenaliveshemighthavemadethingscheerfulbybeingsomethinglikeherownmotherandbyrunninginandoutandgoingtopartiesasshehaddoneinfrocks“fulloflace.”Butshewasnotthereanymore.
“Youneedn’texpecttoseehim,becausetentooneyouwon’t,”saidMrs.Medlock.“Andyoumustn’texpectthattherewillbepeopletotalktoyou.You’llhavetoplayaboutandlookafteryourself.You’llbetoldwhatroomsyoucangointoandwhatroomsyou’retokeepoutof.There’sgardensenough.Butwhenyou’reinthehousedon’tgowanderingandpokingabout.Mr.Cravenwon’thaveit.”
“Ishallnotwanttogopokingabout,”saidsourlittleMaryandjustassuddenlyasshehadbeguntoberathersorryforMr
