Entirely gone was the
slight crust of acerbity that had threatened her in her maiden days,
when, thanks to her misplaced affections, it had seemed for a time as if
the purple prizes of life--love, offers of marriage, a home of her own
--were going to pass her by. She was now a stout, high-coloured woman
with a roar of a laugh, full, yet firm lips, and the whitest of teeth.
Mary thought her decidedly toned down and improved since her marriage;
but Mahony put it that the means Tilly now had at her disposal were such
as to make people shut an eye to her want of refinement. However that
might be, "old Mrs. Ocock" was welcomed everywhere--even by those on
whom her bouncing manners grated. She was invariably clad in a thick and
handsome black silk gown, over which she wore all the jewellery she
could crowd on her person--huge cameo brooches, ear-drops, rings and
bracelets, lockets and chains. Her name topped subscription-lists, and,
having early weaned her old husband of his dissenting habits, she was a
real prop to Archdeacon Long and his church, taking the chief and most
expensive table at tea-meetings, the most thankless stall at bazaars.
She kept open house, too, and gave delightful parties, where, while some
sat at loo, others were free to turn the rooms upside-down for a dance,
or to ransack wardrobes and presses for costumes for charades. She drove
herself and her friends about in various vehicles, briskly and well, and
indulged besides in many secret charities.
Pages:
481
482
483
484
485
486
487
488
489
490
491
492
493
494
495
496
497
498
499
500
501
502
503
504
505