Captain Brown and Miss Jenkyns were not very cordial to each other.  The literary dispute, of which I had seen the beginning, was a “raw,” the slightest touch on which made them wince.  It was the only difference of opinion they had ever had; but that difference was enough.  Miss Jenkyns could not refrain from talking at Captain Brown; and, though he did not reply, he drummed with his fingers, which action she felt and resented as very disparaging to Dr Johnson.  He was rather ostentatious in his preference of the writings of Mr Boz; would walk through the streets so absorbed in them that he all but ran against Miss Jenkyns; and though his apologies were earnest and sincere, and though he did not, in fact, do more than startle her and himself, she owned to me she had rather he had knocked her down, if he had only been reading a higher style of literature.  The poor, brave Captain! he looked older, and more worn, and his clothes were very threadbare.  But he seemed as bright and cheerful as ever, unless he was asked about his daughter’s health.

“She suffers a great deal, and she must suffer more:  we do what we can to alleviate her pain;—­God’s will be done!” He took off his hat at these last words.  I found, from Miss Matty, that everything had been done, in fact.  A medical man, of high repute in that country neighbourhood, had been sent for, and every injunction he had given was attended to, regardless of expense.  Miss Matty was sure they denied themselves many things in order to make the invalid comfortable; but they never spoke about it; and as for Miss Jessie!—­“I really think she’s an angel,” said poor Miss Matty, quite overcome.  “To see her way of bearing with Miss Brown’s crossness, and the bright face she puts on after she’s been sitting up a whole night and scolded above half of it, is quite beautiful.  Yet she looks as neat and as ready to welcome the Captain at breakfast-time as if she had been asleep in the Queen’s bed all night.  My dear! you could never laugh at her prim little curls or her pink bows again if you saw her as I have done.”  I could only feel very penitent, and greet Miss Jessie with double respect when I met her next.  She looked faded and pinched; and her lips began to quiver, as if she was very weak, when she spoke of her sister.  But she brightened, and sent back the tears that were glittering in her pretty eyes, as she said —

“But, to be sure, what a town Cranford is for kindness!  I don’t suppose any one has a better dinner than usual cooked but the best part of all comes in a little covered basin for my sister.  The poor people will leave their earliest vegetables at our door for her.  They speak short and gruff, as if they were ashamed of it:  but I am sure it often goes to my heart to see their thoughtfulness.”  The tears now came back and overflowed; but after a minute or two she began to scold herself, and ended by going away the same cheerful Miss Jessie as ever.