the geese that
occasionally venture into the gardens if the gates are left open; for
deciding all questions of literature and politics without troubling
themselves with unnecessary reasons or arguments; for obtaining clear
and correct knowledge of everybody's affairs in the parish; for keeping
their neat maid-servants in admirable order; for kindness (somewhat
dictatorial) to the poor, and real tender good offices to each other
whenever they are in distress, the ladies of Cranford are quite
sufficient. "A man," as one of them observed to me once, "is _so_ in the
way in the house!" Although the ladies of Cranford know all each other's
proceedings, they are exceedingly indifferent to each other's opinions.
Indeed, as each has her own individuality, not to say eccentricity,
pretty strongly developed, nothing is so easy as verbal retaliation;
but, somehow, good-will reigns among them to a considerable degree.

The Cranford ladies have only an occasional little quarrel, spirted out
in a few peppery words and angry jerks of the head; just enough to
prevent the even tenor of their lives from becoming too flat. Their
dress is very independent of fashion; as they observe, "What does it
signify how we dress here at Cranford, where everybody knows us?" And if
they go from home, their reason is equally cogent, "What does it signify
how we dress here, where nobody knows us?" The materials of their
clothes are, in general, good and plain, and most of them are nearly as
scrupulous as Miss Tyler, of cleanly memory; but I will answer for it,
the last gigot, the last tight and scanty petticoat in wear in England,
was seen at Cranford--and seen without a smile.

I can testify to a magnificent family red silk umbrella, under which a
gentle little spinster, left alone of many brothers and sisters, used to
patter to church on rainy days. Have you any red silk umbrellas in
London? We had a tradition of the first that had ever been seen in
Cranford; and the little boys mobbed it, and called it "a stick in
petticoats." It might have been the very red silk one I have described,
held by a strong father over a troop of little ones; the poor little
lady--the survivor of all--could scarcely carry it.

Then there were rules and regulations for visiting and calls; and they
were announced to any young people who might be staying in the town with
all the solemnity with which the old Manx laws were read once a year on
the Tinwald Mount:

"Our friends