CHAPTER XLVII.
IN WHICH PALE HECATE VISITS THE MILLS, AND CHARLES NUTTER, ESQ., ORDERS TEA.
Poor Mrs.Nutter, I have an honest regard for her memory.

If she was scant of brains, she was also devoid of guile--giggle and raspberry-jam were the leading traits of her character.

And though she was slow to believe ill-natured stories, and made, in general, a horrid jumble when she essayed to relate news, except of the most elementary sort; and used to forget genealogies, and to confuse lawsuits and other family feuds, and would have made a most unsatisfactory witness upon any topic on earth, yet she was a ready sympathiser, and a restless but purblind matchmaker--always suggesting or suspecting little romances, and always amazed when the eclaircissement came off.

Excellent for condoling--better still for rejoicing--she would, on hearing of a surprising good match, or an unexpected son and heir, or a pleasantly-timed legacy, go off like a mild little peal of joy-bells, and keep ringing up and down and zig-zag, and to and again, in all sorts of irregular roulades, without stopping, the whole day long, with 'Well, to be sure.' 'Upon my conscience, now, I scarce can believe it.' 'An' isn't it pleasant, though.' 'Oh! the creatures--but it was badly wanted!' 'Dear knows--but I'm glad--ha, ha, ha,' and so on.

A train of reflection and rejoicing not easily exhausted, and readily, by simple transposition, maintainable for an indefinite period.