Cranford

The little country town of Cranford was ruled almost entirely by women.Every house of any size was kept by a lady, for the men had gone away — to the army, to sea, or to business in the big smoky town of Drumble, twenty miles off.Whatever the men of Cranford did, they did it somewhere else, and were never seen.

The ladies managed everything: the gardens, the town news, questions of books and politics, and kindness to the poor.They were poor themselves, mostly, but they had turned genteel poverty into a kind of fashion, which they called “elegant economy.”At their card parties the only refreshment might be a single plate of thin bread and butter, and no one thought the worse of it.

Visits were paid strictly between twelve and three, and no caller ever stayed more than a quarter of an hour.It was thought vulgar to speak of one’s own money or household troubles.So Cranford went on, quiet, careful, and very sure of its own good manners.

Then Captain Brown came to town to help build the new railway, and at once he shocked everyone.He spoke of being poor openly, in a loud, cheerful voice, as though poverty were nothing to be ashamed of.The ladies were offended — but he was so kind, so sensible, and so quick to help that they could not bring themselves to shut their doors on him.

He carried an old woman’s coal-scuttle up the street and gave up his seat in the coach without being asked.He had two daughters: Miss Brown, older, plain, and often ill, and Miss Jessie, younger, pretty, and with dimples she was really too old to have.Little by little, Cranford took the Browns in, though it never quite forgave the Captain for being honest about his purse.

The one battle that never ended was between Captain Brown and Miss Jenkyns, the rector’s daughter, over books.He loved the funny new stories of Mr. Dickens; she held that no one had ever written English as finely as Dr. Johnson, and neither would give an inch.