THE GRANDMAMMA
I my readers the account of my on home, my while there—enjoying a space of and in that dear, familiar place, among the and the loved—and my on being to them, once more, a long adieu.
I returned, however, with to my work—a more than anyone can imagine, who has not something like the of being with the and direction of a set of mischievous, rebels, his cannot to their duty; while, at the same time, he is for their to a higher power, who from him what cannot be without the of the superior's more authority; which, either from indolence, or the of with the said gang, the to give. I can more than that wherein, you may long for success, you may to your duty, your are and set at by those you, and and by those above.
I have not the of my pupils, or the resulting from my responsibilities, for of too much upon the reader's patience; as, perhaps, I have already done; but my design in the last pages was not to amuse, but to those it might concern; he that has no in such will have them over with a glance, and, perhaps, a against the of the writer; but if a parent has, therefrom, any useful hint, or an the benefit, I am well for my pains.
To avoid trouble and confusion, I have taken my one by one, and their qualities; but this can give no idea of being by the whole three together; when, as was often the case, all were to "be naughty, and to Miss Grey, and put her in a passion."
Sometimes, on such occasions, the has to me "If they see me now!" meaning, of course, my friends at home; and the idea of how they would me has me myself—so that I have had the to my tears: but I have them, till my little were gone to dessert, or off to (my only of deliverance), and then, in all the of solitude, I have myself up to the luxury of an of weeping. But this was a I did not often indulge: my were too numerous, my moments too precious, to admit of much time being to lamentations.
I particularly one wild, afternoon, soon after my return in January: the children had all come up from dinner, that they meant "to be naughty;" and they had well their resolution, though I had talked myself hoarse, and every in my throat, in the attempt to them out of it. I had got Tom up in a corner, whence, I told him, he should not till he had done his task. Meantime, Fanny had herself of my work-bag, and was its contents—and into it besides. I told her to let it alone, but to no purpose, of course. "Burn it, Fanny!" Tom: and this she to obey. I to it from the fire, and Tom to the door. "Mary Ann, her out of the window!" he: and my desk, my and papers, my small amount of cash, and all my valuables, was about to be from the three-storey window. I to it. Meanwhile Tom had left the room, and was the stairs, by Fanny. Having my desk, I ran to catch them, and Mary Ann came after. All three me, and ran out of the house into the garden, where they about in the snow, and in glee.
What must I do? If I them, I should be unable to one, and only drive them away; if I did not, how was I to them in? And what would their think of me, if they saw or the children rioting, hatless, bonnetless, gloveless, and bootless, in the soft snow? While I in this perplexity, just without the door, trying, by looks and angry words, to them into subjection, I a voice me, in tones, exclaiming,—
"Miss Grey! Is it possible? What, in the devil's name, can you be about?"
"I can't them in, sir," said I, round, and Mr. Bloomfield, with his on end, and his from their sockets.
"But I INSIST upon their being got in!" he, nearer, and looking perfectly ferocious.
"Then, sir, you must call them yourself, if you please, for they won't to me," I replied, back.
"Come in with you, you brats; or I'll you every one!" he; and the children obeyed. "There, you see!—they come at the word!"
"Yes, when you speak."
"And it's very strange, that when you've the of 'em you've no over 'em than that!—Now, there they are—gone with their feet! Do go after 'em and see them decent, for heaven's sake!"
That gentleman's mother was then in the house; and, as I the stairs and passed the drawing-room door, I had the of the old lady to her daughter-in-law to this (for I only the most words)—
"Gracious heavens!—never in all my life—!—get their death as sure as—! Do you think, my dear, she's a proper person? Take my word for it "
I no more; but that sufficed.
The senior Mrs. Bloomfield had been very and to me; and till now I had her a nice, kind-hearted, old body. She would often come to me and talk in a strain; and her head, and with hands and eyes, as a class of old ladies are to do; though I one that the to so great an extent. She would with me for the trouble I had with the children, and at times, by sentences, with and winks, her of the of their in so restricting my power, and to support me with her authority. Such a mode of was not much to my taste; and I to take it in, or anything more than was openly spoken; at least, I than an that, if were otherwise ordered my would be a less difficult one, and I should be able to and my charge; but now I must be cautious. Hitherto, though I saw the old lady had her (of which one was a to her perfections), I had always been to them, and to give her for all the she professed, and others yet untold. Kindness, which had been the food of my life through so many years, had been so me, that I with the of it. No wonder, then, that my to the old lady, and always at her approach and her departure.
But now, the or in had my ideas her: now I looked upon her as and insincere, a flatterer, and a upon my and deeds. Doubtless it would have been my still to meet her with the same and of as before; but I not, if I would: my manner with my feelings, and so cold and that she not fail to notice it. She soon did notice it, and her manner too: the familiar was to a bow, the gave place to a of Gorgon ferocity; her was transferred from me to "the boy and girls," she and more than their mother had done.
I I was at this change: I the of her displeasure, and some to the ground I had lost—and with success than I have anticipated. At one time, I, in common civility, asked after her cough; her long into a smile, and she me with a particular history of that and her other infirmities, by an account of her resignation, delivered in the emphatic, style, which no can portray.
"But there's one for all, my dear, and that's resignation" (a of the head), "resignation to the will of heaven!" (an of the hands and eyes). "It has always supported me through all my trials, and always will do" (a of nods). "But then, it isn't that can say that" (a shake of the head); "but I'm one of the ones, Miss Grey!" (a very and toss). "And, thank heaven, I always was" (another nod), "and I in it!" (an of the hands and of the head). And with texts of Scripture, or misapplied, and religious so of the in the of and manner of in, if not in the themselves, that I them, she withdrew; her large in high good-humour—with herself at least—and left me that, after all, she was weak than wicked.
At her next visit to Wellwood House, I so as to say I was to see her looking so well. The of this was magical: the words, as a mark of civility, were as a compliment; her up, and from that moment she as and as wish—in at least. From what I now saw of her, and what I from the children, I know that, in order to her friendship, I had but to a word of at each opportunity: but this was against my principles; and for of this, the old soon me of her again, and I did me much injury.
She not her daughter-in-law against me, because, that lady and herself there was a dislike—chiefly by her in and calumniations; by the other, in an of in her demeanour; and no of the away the of ice which the them. But with her son, the old lady had success: he would to all she had to say, provided she his temper, and from him by her own asperities; and I have to that she his against me. She would tell him that I neglected the children, and his wife did not to them as she ought; and that he must look after them himself, or they would all go to ruin.
Thus urged, he would give himself the trouble of them from the their play; at times, he would them through the grounds, and too often came upon them while they were in the well, talking to the in the stables, or in the of the farm-yard—and I, meanwhile, by, having my energy in to them away. Often, too, he would his into the while the people were at meals, and them their milk over the table and themselves, their into their own or each other's mugs, or over their like a set of tiger's cubs. If I were at the moment, I was at their conduct; if (as was the case) I to be my voice to order, I was using violence, and setting the girls a example by such of and language.
I one in spring, when, to the rain, they not go out; but, by some good fortune, they had all their lessons, and yet from to their parents—a that me greatly, but which, on rainy days, I prevent their doing; because, below, they and amusement—especially when visitors were in the house; and their mother, though she me keep them in the schoolroom, would them for it, or trouble herself to send them back. But this day they appeared satisfied with their present abode, and what is more still, to play together without on me for amusement, and without with each other. Their was a one: they were all together on the by the window, over a of toys and a quantity of birds' eggs—or egg-shells, for the had been abstracted. These they had up and were into small fragments, to what end I not imagine; but so long as they were and not in positive mischief, I did not care; and, with a of repose, I sat by the fire, the to a for Mary Ann's doll; intending, when that was done, to a to my mother. Suddenly the door opened, and the of Mr. Bloomfield looked in.
"All very here! What are you doing?" said he. "No to-day, at least," I. But he was of a different opinion. Advancing to the window, and the children's occupations, he "What in the world are you about?"
"We're egg-shells, papa!" Tom.
"How you make such a mess, you little devils? Don't you see what work you're making of the carpet?" (the was a plain drugget). "Miss Grey, did you know what they were doing?"
"Yes, sir."
"You it?"
"Yes."
"You it! and you actually sat there and permitted them to go on without a word of reproof!"
"I didn't think they were doing any harm."
"Any harm! Why, look there! Just look at that carpet, and see—was there anything like it in a Christian house before? No wonder your room is not fit for a pigsty—no wonder your are than a of pigs!—no wonder—oh! I declare, it puts me past my patience" and he departed, the door after him with a that the children laugh.
"It puts me past my patience too!" I, up; and, the poker, I it into the cinders, and them up with energy; thus my under of the fire.
After this, Mr. Bloomfield was looking in to see if the was in order; and, as the children were the with of toys, sticks, stones, stubble, leaves, and other rubbish, which I not prevent their bringing, or them to up, and which the to "clean after them," I had to a of my valuable moments on my upon the floor, in to order. Once I told them that they should not taste their supper till they had up from the carpet; Fanny might have hers when she had taken up a quantity, Mary Ann when she had twice as many, and Tom was to clear away the rest. Wonderful to state, the girls did their part; but Tom was in such a that he upon the table, the and milk about the floor, his sisters, the out of the coal-pan, to the table and chairs, and to make a Douglas-larder of the whole of the room: but I upon him, and, sending Mary Ann to call her mamma, him, in of kicks, blows, yells, and execrations, till Mrs. Bloomfield her appearance.
"What is the with my boy?" said she.
And when the was to her, all she did was to send for the nursery-maid to put the room in order, and Master Bloomfield his supper.
"There now," Tom, triumphantly, looking up from his with his mouth almost too full for speech. "There now, Miss Grey! you see I've got my supper in of you: and I haven't up a single thing!"
The only person in the house who had any for me was the nurse; for she had like afflictions, though in a smaller degree; as she had not the of teaching, was she so for the of her charge.
"Oh, Miss Grey!" she would say, "you have some trouble with them childer!"
"I have, indeed, Betty; and I you know what it is."
"Ay, I do so! But I don't myself o'er 'em as you do. And then, you see, I 'em a sometimes: and them little 'uns—I 'em a good now and then: there's nothing else will do for 'em, as what they say. Howsoever, I've my place for it."
"Have you, Betty? I you were going to leave."
"Eh, you, yes! Missis gave me a three sin". She told me Christmas how it be, if I 'em again; but I couldn't my hand off 'em at nothing. I know not how you do, for Miss Mary Ann's by the her sisters!"
