Free Miss Mary Martha Crawford by Yelena Kopylova Page B

still looked after her Aunt Sophie, and, of course, the girls until they should marry.
    She had never before taken into account that Roland might marry and
    bring his wife to live in the house; if she had she would have
    dismissed it, by telling herself that Roland was an ambitious young man with three years before him at the university. Moreover, Roland
    definitely favoured town life; during the holidays he could never wait to get back to Scarborough. Nor did she take this into account now,
    for if the outcome of today's visit wasn't satisfactory then there was every possibility of them having to find a smaller habitation, a meaner habitation that could be run without servants.
    Yet as the journey proceeded her mind was lifted temporarily from
    herself and her troubles for she became interested in the passing
    countryside. It was bleak and snow- sprinkled in many parts but there were stretches that were beautiful.
    And the train journey itself, well, it wasn't so frightening after all, in fact the sensation, she could say, was pleasing, even exciting.
    There were times when the carriage rocked somewhat alarmingly and
    others when the passing scene was completely obliterated by the smoke from the engine, but altogether it was not in the least as unpleasant as she had expected, When eventually she alighted in Newcastle she was sorry the journey was over, yet reminded herself that she'd be
    returning the same way.
    Outside the station she stood for a moment gazing about her, and now the scene was really bewildering. Such crowds of people, and of all
    types, finely dressed ladies descending from carriages, some enveloped in furs and walking into the
    station as if travelling was an everyday occurrence, while others, and these very much in the majority, seemed most ordinary people, some in dire straits if their clothing was anything to go by. As she stood
    gazing about her from under the portico a shabby-looking cab drew up towards the kerb, and the cabman, bending side wards shouted at her,
    "Wanting a cab, miss?"
    "Yes. Oh yes, thank you." She stepped towards him, then said, "Would would you take me to this address, please?" She handed a slip of paper up to him.
    The man held it at arm's length, then said, The eyes're not so good, miss, read it out, will ya? "
    When she took it back from his hand she realized that the poor man was unable to read.
    "It's the house of Mr. James Low-Pearson, Seven Court Terrace," she said kindly.
    "Court Terrace? Aye. Aye." He now made an elongated 0 with his mouth, then looking down at her from under his brows he said, "That's up Portland Road, quite a way. Now, miss, do you want to go the long way round, or the short way? The long way goes up Grainger Street an'
    you can see all the bonny shops, then on to Northumberland Street where I'll cut off into Sandybank Road, then you're almost there. But the
    shorter way, well 'tisn't so pleasant. Interesting like, but not so
    pleasant, an' young ladies generally like it pleasant an' to see the shops. There's some fine shops, an' some fine buildings. Now what's
    it...?"
    She cut him off sharply, saying, "I would prefer the shorter route, thank you."
    He stared down at her for a moment before exclaiming, "Oh aye ... all right then, just as you say. Well, boy yersel in."
    He made no attempt to get down and help her into the cab and once she was seated inside, her nose wrinkled at the stale smell pervading the worn leather, and she said to herself with some indignation, "Hoy yersel in!"
    The road leading from the station had been comparatively smooth but now she was being tossed from side to
    side as the cab joggled its way over cobbles and through narrow
    thoroughfares. At one point the cab stopped and while her driver had a loud altercation with someone in front of him she put her face close to the window and was appalled at what she saw. Filthy children, some in their bare feet; women, their bodies bulbous with old clothes to keep out the cold, but all