Chapter 15.12 - Shirley

She is not particularly self-confident by nature, as you may have observed, and the first time she had to take a tray, as the phrase is, and make tea in public, there was some piteous trembling and flushing. I observed the speechless panic, the cups shaking in the little hand and the overflowing teapot filled too full from the urn. I came to her aid, took a seat near her, managed the urn and the slop-basin, and in fact made the tea for her, like any old woman." I was very grateful to you," interposed Caroline. You were, you told me so, with an earnest sincerity that repaid me well, inasmuch as it was not like the majority of the little ladies of twelve, whom you may help and caress for ever without their evincing any quicker sense of the kindness done and meant than if they were made of wax and wood instead of flesh and nerves. She kept close to me, Miss Kielder, the rest of the evening, walking with me over the grounds where the children were playing. She followed me into the vestry when all were summoned into church. She would, I believe, have mounted with me to the pulpit, had I not taken the previous precaution of conducting her to the rectory pew. "'And he has been my friend ever since,' said Caroline, and always sat at her table, near her tray, and handed the cups. That is the extent of my services. The next thing I do for her will be to marry her some day to some curate or mill-owner. But mind, Caroline, I shall inquire about the bridegroom's character, and if he is not a gentleman likely to render happy, the little girl who walked with me hand in hand over Nunnerley Common, I will not officiate. So take care." The caution is useless. I am not going to be married. I shall live single like your sister Margaret, Mr. Hall.