Chapter 8
The next day, Friday, at five o'clock by the sun-dial, the large
bow-window of Mrs. Jerome's parlour was open; and that lady herself was
seated within its ample semicircle, having a table before her on which
her best tea-tray, her best china, and her best urn-rug had already been
standing in readiness for half an hour. Mrs. Jerome's best tea-service
was of delicate white fluted china, with gold sprigs upon it—as pretty a
tea-service as you need wish to see, and quite good enough for chimney
ornaments; indeed, as the cups were without handles, most visitors who
had the distinction of taking tea out of them, wished that such charming
china had already been promoted to that honorary position. Mrs. Jerome
was like her china, handsome and old-fashioned. She was a buxom lady of
sixty, in an elaborate lace cap fastened by a frill under her chin, a
dark, well-curled front concealing her forehead, a snowy neckerchief
exhibiting its ample folds as far as her waist, and a stiff grey silk
gown. She had a clean damask napkin pinned before her to guard her dress
during the process of tea-making; her favourite geraniums in the
bow-window were looking as healthy as she could desire; her own handsome
portrait, painted when she was twenty years younger, was smiling down on
her with agreeable flattery; and altogether she seemed to be in as
peaceful and pleasant a position as a buxom, well-drest elderly lady need
desire. But, as in so many other cases, appearances were deceptive. Her
mind was greatly perturbed and her temper ruffled by the fact that it was
more than a quarter past five even by the losing timepiece, that it was
half-past by her large gold watch, which she held in her hand as if she
were counting the pulse of the afternoon, and that, by the kitchen clock, which she felt sure was not an hour too fast, it had already struck six. The lapse of time was rendered the more unendurable to Mrs. Jerome by her wonder that Mr. Jerome could stay out in the garden with Lizzie in that thoughtless way, taking it so easily that tea-time was long past, and that, after all the trouble of getting down the best tea-things, Mr. Tryan would not come.