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Braddon, M. E. (Mary Elizabeth), 1835-1915

"Charlotte's Inheritance"

Sheldon, with a shudder; "and, Diana,
I declare there isn't a single shop. Where are we to get our provisions?
I told Mr. Sheldon St. Leonards would have been a better place for us."
"O mamma, St. Leonards is the very essence of all that is tame and
commonplace, compared to this darling rural village! Look, do look, at
that fisherman's cottage, with the nets hanging out to dry in the
sunshine; just like a picture of Hook's!"
"What's the use of going on about fishermen's cottages, Lotta?" Mrs.
Sheldon demanded, peevishly. "Fishermen's cottages won't provide us with
butcher's meat. Where are we to get your little bit of roast mutton? Dr.
Doddleson laid such a stress upon the roast mutton."
"The sea-air will do me more good than all the mutton that ever was
roasted at Eton, mamma. O, dear, is this our farmhouse?" cried Charlotte,
as the vehicle drew up at a picturesque gate. "O, what a love of a house!
what diamond-paned windows! what sweet white curtains! and a cow staring
at me quite in the friendliest way across the gate! O, can we be so happy
as to live here?"
"Diana," cried Mrs. Sheldon, in a solemn voice, "not a single shop have
we passed--not so much as a post-office! And as to haberdashery, I'm sure
you might be reduced to rags in this place before you could get so much
as a yard of glazed lining!"
The farmhouse was one of those ideal homesteads which, to the dweller in
cities, seems fair as the sapphire-ceiled chambers of the house of
Solomon.


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