The distant rumble of carts through the busy streets (it was
market-day) not only formed a low rolling bass to the nearer and
pleasanter sounds, but enhanced the sense of peace by the
suggestion of the contrast afforded to the repose of the garden
by the bustle not far off.
But, besides physical din and bustle, there is mental strife and
turmoil. That afternoon, as Jemima was restlessly wandering about
the house, her mother desired her to go on an errand to Mrs.
Pearson's, the new dressmaker, in order to give some directions
about her sisters' new frocks. Jemima went, rather than have the
trouble of resisting; or else she would have preferred staying at
home, moving or being outwardly quiet according to her own fitful
will. Mrs. Bradshaw, who, as I have said, had been aware for some
time that something was wrong with her daughter, and was very
anxious to set it to rights if she only knew how, had rather
planned this errand with a view to dispel Jemima's melancholy.
"And, Mimie dear," said her mother, "when you are there, look out
for a new bonnet for yourself; she has got some very pretty ones,
and your old one is so shabby."
"It does for me, mother," said Jemima heavily. "I don't want a
new bonnet."
"But I want you to have one, my lassie. I want my girl to look
well and nice." There was something of homely tenderness in Mrs.
Bradshaw's tone that touched Jemima's heart.
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