Miss Hester 's well-meanin'."
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t the top of the mean street on which Margaret's house was situated, andlooking down upon its meaner neighbours in much the same way that itsmistress looked upon the denizens of the street, stood Miss Prime's cottage.It was not on the mean street,—it would have disdained to be,—but satexactly facing it in prim watchfulness over the unsavoury thoroughfarewhich ran at right angles. The cottage was one and a half stories in height,and the upper half-story had two windows in front that looked out like apair of accusing eyes. It was painted a dull lead colour. In summer the frontyard was filled with flowers, hollyhocks, bachelor's-buttons, sweet-william,and a dozen other varieties of blooms. But they were planted with suchexactness and straightness that the poor flowers looked cramped andartificial and stiff as a party of angular ladies dressed in bombazine. Herewas no riot nor abandon in growth. Everything had its place, and stayedtherein or was plucked up. "T jest can't abide to see flowers growin' every which way," Miss Prime usedto remark, "fur all the world like a neighbourhood with different people'schildren traipsin' through everybody else's house. Everything in order, is mymotto." Miss Hester had nearly arrived at her fortieth mile-stone; and she effectedthe paradox of looking both younger and older than her age. Younger,because she had always taken excellent care of herself. Her form had stillmuch of the roundness of youth, and her step was sprightly and firm. Shelooked older than her age, because of the strong lines in her face, thedetermined set of her lips, and the general air of knowledge and self-sufficiency which pervaded her whole being. Throughout her life she hadsacrificed everything to duty, whether it was the yearning of her own heartot the feelings of those who loved her. In the world about her she saw somuch of froth and frivolity that she tried to balance matters by beingespecially staid and stern herself. She did not consider that in the seesaw oflife it takes more than one person to toss up the weight of the world'swickedness. Her existence was governed by rigid rules, from which shenever departed. It is hard to explain just what Miss Hester's position was among thedenizens of the poorer quarter. She was liked and disliked, admired andfeared. She would descend upon her victims with unasked counsel andundesired tracts. Her voice was a trumpet of scathing invective against theirshiftlessness, their untidiness, and their immorality, but her hand was as ahorn of plenty in straitened times, and her presence in sickness was acomfort. She made no pretence to being good-hearted; in fact, she resented 19
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