But Mrs. Tom very soon let it be known that she considered herself
woefully misled, and quite thrown away upon such a place as Sark, and
still more so upon this _ultima thule_ of Little Sark, which she volubly
asserted was the very last place le bon Dieu had made, and the condition
in which it was left did Him little credit.
She, at all events, showed no disinclination to chat with her
neighbours. Very much the contrary. None of them could pass within range
of her eyes and tongue without a greeting and an invitation to talk.
"Tiens donc, Nancie, ma petite!" she would cry, at sight of Nance. "What
a hurry you are in. It is hurry and scurry and bustle from morning till
night with you over there. The hens? Let them wait, ma garche, 'twill
strengthen their legs to scratch a bit, and 'twill enlighten your mind
to hear about Guernsey and Granville. Oh the beautiful country! Mon
Dieu, if only I were back there!"
They all--except, perhaps, Grannie--felt for her--lonely in a strange
land--and were inclined to do what they could to make her more
contented. But she desired them chiefly as listeners, and the things she
had to tell were little to their taste, and less to her credit from
their point of view, though she herself evidently looked upon them as
every-day matters, and calculated to inspire these simple island-folk
with the respect due to a woman of the greater world outside.
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