word!"
Leaning back in his chair Mahony stared at his wife, while he took in the significance of her words. "And does that mean to say the woman doesn't intend to call on you . . . as well?"
"Evidently not." Mary was crestfallen.
"What? But will call on this Mrs. Pigott? -- living in a farmer's thatched cottage?" And Mary not replying, he burst out: "You will never, with my consent, set foot in that house again!"
"Indeed, I don't want to," said Mary, and sitting down untied her bonnet-strings and threw them over her shoulders. "I don't know when I've felt so uncomfortable. I was ushered into the drawing-room -- it seemed crowded with people -- and there she sat, holding our cards and looking from them to me and back again. I heard something about 'the new doctor's wife' as I went in. Then she asked to what she owed my visit, said she hadn't the pleasure and so on -- all in front of these other people -- the Brookes of 'Shirley' I think they were -- that retired old General . . . you met him once, you know, and thought him very stuck-up. I had to explain how it had happened; I felt my face getting as red as fire. I didn't know whether to walk out again or what, and she didn't help me -- didn't get up, or shake hands, or anything. Fortunately a very nice person -- a sort of companion, I think -- asked me to rest a little after my drive, and I thought it would make things less awkward for everybody if I did so; so I just sat down for a minute and said a word or two, and then bowed and left. She came with me to the door -- the companion, I mean."
White with anger Mahony shuffled and re-shuffled the papers that lay before him on the writing-table. "We've never been treated like this in our lives before, Mary, and I for one won't put up with it! Damn the woman and her insolence! Talk about breeding and blue blood -- give me ordinary decent feelings and a little kindness, and you can keep the blood, thank you! I snap my fingers at it." In imagination he saw his Mary, faced by a like predicament, doing her utmost to smooth over the embarrassment of the moment and set the unfortunate intruder at ease.
And time did not lessen his resentment. Rudeness to Mary -- such a thing had never before come within the range of his experience -- stung him, he found, almost more than rudeness to himself. But was the thrust not actually aimed at him . . . through her? What had the object of it been but to drive home to him the galling fact that, on this side of the world, the medical profession carried with it no standing whatever? In the colonies, along with the Parson and the Police Magistrate, he had helped to constitute the upper ten of a town. Here the doctor -- and quite especially the country doctor -- stood little higher in the social scale than did the vet. and the barber. Oh, those striped poles! Tradition died so hard in this slow-thinking, slow-moving country. Ingrained in people, not to be eradicated, was a memory of the day when the surgeon had been but the servant, the attendant lackey of the great house.
Grimly cogitating, he prepared in advance for further snubs and slights by going about with his chin in the air, looking to the last degree stiff and unapproachable. For, that Mary's misadventure would remain a secret, he did not for a moment believe. There were all too many mouths in Buddlecombe agape for gossip -- it would be threshed out over every tabby's tea-table -- and those already inclined to look down their noses at him and Mary would have a fresh excuse for so grimacing. Anything was possible in such a petty-minded, tittle-tattling place. Hence, it did not surprise him to hear that Robinson had been called to the "Court." The trouble was, of course, that the townspeople and lesser folk were faithful in imitation of their betters; and soon it began to seem to him that he was not occasionally, but everlastingly getting out of Robinson's way. And as he sat at home over the fire -- Mary kept fires going to drive the damp
Leaning back in his chair Mahony stared at his wife, while he took in the significance of her words. "And does that mean to say the woman doesn't intend to call on you . . . as well?"
"Evidently not." Mary was crestfallen.
"What? But will call on this Mrs. Pigott? -- living in a farmer's thatched cottage?" And Mary not replying, he burst out: "You will never, with my consent, set foot in that house again!"
"Indeed, I don't want to," said Mary, and sitting down untied her bonnet-strings and threw them over her shoulders. "I don't know when I've felt so uncomfortable. I was ushered into the drawing-room -- it seemed crowded with people -- and there she sat, holding our cards and looking from them to me and back again. I heard something about 'the new doctor's wife' as I went in. Then she asked to what she owed my visit, said she hadn't the pleasure and so on -- all in front of these other people -- the Brookes of 'Shirley' I think they were -- that retired old General . . . you met him once, you know, and thought him very stuck-up. I had to explain how it had happened; I felt my face getting as red as fire. I didn't know whether to walk out again or what, and she didn't help me -- didn't get up, or shake hands, or anything. Fortunately a very nice person -- a sort of companion, I think -- asked me to rest a little after my drive, and I thought it would make things less awkward for everybody if I did so; so I just sat down for a minute and said a word or two, and then bowed and left. She came with me to the door -- the companion, I mean."
White with anger Mahony shuffled and re-shuffled the papers that lay before him on the writing-table. "We've never been treated like this in our lives before, Mary, and I for one won't put up with it! Damn the woman and her insolence! Talk about breeding and blue blood -- give me ordinary decent feelings and a little kindness, and you can keep the blood, thank you! I snap my fingers at it." In imagination he saw his Mary, faced by a like predicament, doing her utmost to smooth over the embarrassment of the moment and set the unfortunate intruder at ease.
And time did not lessen his resentment. Rudeness to Mary -- such a thing had never before come within the range of his experience -- stung him, he found, almost more than rudeness to himself. But was the thrust not actually aimed at him . . . through her? What had the object of it been but to drive home to him the galling fact that, on this side of the world, the medical profession carried with it no standing whatever? In the colonies, along with the Parson and the Police Magistrate, he had helped to constitute the upper ten of a town. Here the doctor -- and quite especially the country doctor -- stood little higher in the social scale than did the vet. and the barber. Oh, those striped poles! Tradition died so hard in this slow-thinking, slow-moving country. Ingrained in people, not to be eradicated, was a memory of the day when the surgeon had been but the servant, the attendant lackey of the great house.
Grimly cogitating, he prepared in advance for further snubs and slights by going about with his chin in the air, looking to the last degree stiff and unapproachable. For, that Mary's misadventure would remain a secret, he did not for a moment believe. There were all too many mouths in Buddlecombe agape for gossip -- it would be threshed out over every tabby's tea-table -- and those already inclined to look down their noses at him and Mary would have a fresh excuse for so grimacing. Anything was possible in such a petty-minded, tittle-tattling place. Hence, it did not surprise him to hear that Robinson had been called to the "Court." The trouble was, of course, that the townspeople and lesser folk were faithful in imitation of their betters; and soon it began to seem to him that he was not occasionally, but everlastingly getting out of Robinson's way. And as he sat at home over the fire -- Mary kept fires going to drive the damp
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