s fell on
Dinah's finely moulded cheek, and lit up her pale red hair to auburn,
as she bent over the heavy household linen which she was mending for her
aunt. No scene could have been more peaceful, if Mrs. Poyser, who was
ironing a few things that still remained from the Monday's wash, had
not been making a frequent clinking with her iron and moving to and
fro whenever she wanted it to cool; carrying the keen glance of her
blue-grey eye from the kitchen to the dairy, where Hetty was making
up the butter, and from the dairy to the back kitchen, where Nancy was
taking the pies out of the oven. Do not suppose, however, that Mrs.
Poyser was elderly or shrewish in her appearance; she was a good-looking
woman, not more than eight-and-thirty, of fair complexion and sandy
hair, well-shapen, light-footed. The most conspicuous article in her
attire was an ample checkered linen apron, which almost covered her
skirt; and nothing could be plainer or less noticeable than her cap
and gown, for there was no weakness of which she was less tolerant than
feminine vanity, and the preference of ornament to utility. The family
likeness between her and her niece Dinah Morris, with the contrast
between her keenness and Dinah's seraphic gentleness of expression,
might have served a painter as an excellent suggestion for a Martha and
Mary. Their eyes were just of the same colour, but a striking test of
the difference in their operation was seen in the demeanour of Trip, the
black-and-tan terrier, whenever that much-suspected dog unwarily exposed
himself to the freezing arctic ray of Mrs. Poyser's glance. Her tongue
was not less keen than her eye, and, whenever a damsel came within
earshot, seemed to take up an unfinished lecture, as a barrel-organ
takes up a tune, precisely at the point where it had left off.

The fact that it was churning day was another reason why it was
inconvenient to have the whittaws, and why, consequently, Mrs.
Poyser should scold Molly the housemaid with unusual severity. To all
appearance Molly had got through her after-dinner work in an exemplary
manner, had "cleaned herself" with great dispatch, and now came to ask,
submissively, if she should sit down to her spinning till milking time.
But this blameless conduct, according to Mrs. Poyser, shrouded a secret
indulgence of unbecoming wishes, which she now dragged forth and held up
to Molly's view with cutting eloquence.

"Spinning, indeed! It isn't spinning as you'd b