The kitchen is occupied at present by the Bishop’s lady, Mrs. Bridgenorth, who is talking to Mr. William Collins, the greengrocer. He is in evening dress, though it is early forenoon. Mrs. Bridgenorth is a quiet happy-looking woman of fifty or thereabouts, placid, gentle, and humorous, with delicate features and fine grey hair with many white threads. She is dressed as for some festivity; but she is taking things easily as she sits in the big chair by the hearth, reading The Times.
Collins is an elderly man with a rather youthful waist. His muttonchop whiskers have a coquettish touch of Dundreary at their lower ends. He is an affable man, with those perfect manners which can be acquired only in keeping a shop for the sale of necessaries of life to ladies whose social position is so unquestionable that they are not anxious about it. He is a reassuring man, with a vigilant grey eye, and the power of saying anything he likes to you without offence, because his tone always implies that he does it with your kind permission. Withal by no means servile: rather gallant and compassionate, but never without a conscientious recognition, on public grounds, of social distinctions. He is at the oak chest counting a pile of napkins.
Mrs. Bridgenorth reads placidly: Collins counts: a blackbird sings in the garden. Mrs. Bridgenorth puts The Times down in her lap and considers Collins for a moment.
| Mrs. Bridgenorth | Do you never feel nervous on these occasions, Collins? |
| Collins | Lord bless you, no, ma’am. It would be a joke, after marrying five of your daughters, if I was to get nervous over marrying the last of them. |
| Mrs. Bridgenorth | I have always said you were a wonderful man, Collins. |
| Collins | Almost blushing. Oh, ma’am! |
| Mrs. Bridgenorth | Yes. I never could arrange anything—a wedding or even dinner—without some hitch or other. |
| Collins | Why should you give yourself the trouble, ma’am? Send for the greengrocer, ma’am: that’s the secret of easy housekeeping. Bless you, it’s his business. It pays him and you, let alone the pleasure in a house like this. Mrs. Bridgenorth bows in acknowledgment of the compliment. They joke about the greengrocer, just as they joke about the mother-in-law. But they can’t get on without both. |
| Mrs. Bridgenorth | What a bond between us, Collins! |
| Collins | Bless you, ma’am, there’s all sorts of bonds between all sorts of people. You are a very affable lady, ma’am, for a Bishop’s lady. I have known Bishop’s ladies that would fairly provoke you to up and cheek them; but nobody would ever forget himself and his place with you, ma’am. |
| Mrs. Bridgenorth | Collins: you are a flatterer. You will superintend the breakfast yourself as usual, of course, won’t you? |
| Collins | Yes, yes, bless you, ma’am, of course. I always do. Them fashionable caterers send down such people as I never did set eyes on. Dukes you would take them for. You see the relatives shaking hands with them and asking them about the family—actually ladies saying “Where have we met before?” and all sorts of confusion. That’s my secret in business, ma’am. You can always spot me as the greengrocer. It’s a fortune to me in these days, when you can’t hardly tell who anyone is or isn’t. He goes out through the tower, and immediately returns for a moment to announce, The General, ma’am. |
| Mrs. Bridgenorth rises to receive her brother-in-law, who enters resplendent in full-dress uniform, with many medals and orders. General Bridgenorth is a well set up man of fifty, with large brave nostrils, an iron mouth, faithful dog’s eyes, and much natural simplicity and dignity of character. He is ignorant, stupid, and prejudiced, having been carefully trained to be so; and it is not always possible to be patient with him when his unquestionably good intentions become actively mischievous; but one blames society, not himself, for this. He would be no worse a man than Collins, had he enjoyed Collins’s social opportunities. He comes to the hearth, where Mrs. Bridgenorth is standing with her back to the fireplace. | |
| Mrs. Bridgenorth | Good morning, Boxer. They shake hands. Another niece to give away. This is the last of them. |
| The General | Very gloomy. Yes, Alice. Nothing for the old warrior uncle to do but give away brides to luckier men than himself. Has—He chokes. has your sister come yet? |
| Mrs. Bridgenorth | Why do you always call Lesbia my sister? Don’t you know that it annoys her more than any of the rest of your tricks? |
| The General | Tricks! Ha! Well, I’ll try to break myself of it; but I think she might bear with me in a little thing like that. She knows that her name sticks in my throat. Better call her your sister than try to call her L—He almost breaks down. L—well, call her by her name and make a fool of myself by crying. He sits down at the near end of the table. |
| Mrs. Bridgenorth | Going to him and rallying him. Oh come, Boxer! Really, really! We are no longer boys and girls. You can’t keep up a broken heart all your life. It must be nearly twenty years since she |
