Still the sight of the peacock opportunely spreading his tail on the stackyard wall, just as they reached Garum Firs was enough to divert the mind temporarily from personal grievances.And this was only the beginning of beautiful sights at Garum Firs.All the farmyard life was wonderful there - bantams, speckled and topknotted - Friesland hens, with their feathers all turned the wrong way; Guinea-fowls that flew and screamed and dropped their pretty-spotted feathers - pouter pigeons and a tame magpie; nay, a goat, and a wonderful brindled dog, half mastiff, half bull-dog, as large as a lion.Then there were white railings and white gates all about, and glittering weathercocks of various design, and garden-walks paved with pebbles in beautiful patterns - nothing was quite common at Garum Firs;and Tom thought that the unusual size of the toads there was simply due to the general unusualness which characterised uncle Pullet's possessions as a gentleman farmer.Toads who paid rent were naturally leaner.As for the house, it was not less remarkable: it had a receding centre, and two wings with battlemented turrets, and was covered with glittering white stucco.
Uncle Pullet had seen the expected party approaching from the window, and made haste to unbar and unchain the front door, kept always in this fortified condition from fear of tramps who might be supposed to know of the glass-case of stuffed birds in the hall and to contemplate rushing in and carrying it away on their heads.Aunt Pullet too appeared at the doorway, and as soon as her sister was within hearing said, `Stop the children, for God's sake, Bessy - don't let 'em come up the door-steps: Sally's bringing the old mat and the duster, to rub their shoes.'
Mrs Pullet's front-door mats were by no means intended to wipe shoes on: the very scraper had a deputy to do its dirty work.Tom rebelled particularly against this shoe-wiping, which he always considered in the light of an indignity to his ***.He felt it as the beginning of the disagreeables incident to a visit at aunt Pullet's, where he had once been compelled to sit with towels wrapped round his boots; a fact which may serve to correct the too hasty conclusion that a visit to Garum Firs must have been a great treat to a young gentleman fond of animals - fond, that is, of throwing stones at them.
The next disagreeable was confined to his feminine companions: it was the mounting of the polished oak stairs, which had very handsome carpets rolled up and laid by in a spare bedroom, so that the ascent of these glossy steps might have served in barbarous times as a trial by ordeal from which none but the most spotless virtue could have come off with unbroken limbs.
Sophy's weakness about these polished stairs was always a subject of bitter remonstrance on Mrs Glegg's part, but Mrs Tulliver ventured on no comment, only thinking to herself it was a mercy, when she and the children were safe on the landing.
`Mrs Gray has sent home my new bonnet, Bessy,' said Mrs Pullet, in a pathetic tone as Mrs Tulliver adjusted her cap.
`Has she, sister?' said Mrs Tulliver, with an air of much interest.
`And how do you like it?'
`It's apt to make a mess with clothes, taking 'em out and putting 'em in again,' said Mrs Pullet, drawing a bunch of keys from her pocket and looking at them earnestly, `but it 'ud be a pity for you to go away without seeing it.There's no knowing what may happen.'
Mrs Pullet shook her head slowly at this last serious consideration, which determined her to single out a particular key.
`I'am afraid it'll be troublesome to you - getting it out, sister,'
said Mrs Tulliver, `but I should like to see what sort of a crown she's made you.'
Mrs Pullet rose with a melancholy air and unlocked one wing of a very bright wardrobe, where you may have hastily supposed she would find the new bonnet.Not at all.Such a supposition could only have arisen from a too superficial acquaintance with the habits of the Dodson family.In this wardrobe Mrs Pullet was seeking something small enough to be hidden among layers of linen - it was a door-key.
`You must come with me into the best room,' said Mrs Pullet.
`May the children come too, sister?' inquired Mrs Tulliver, who saw that Maggie and Lucy were looking rather eager.
`Well,' said aunt Pullet, reflectively, `it'll perhaps be safer for 'em to come - they'll be touching something, if we leave 'em behind.'
So they went in procession along the bright and slippery corridor, dimly lighted by the semi-lunar top of the window, which rose above the closed shutter: it was really quite solemn.Aunt Pullet paused and unlocked a door which opened on something still more solemn than the passage - a darkened room, in which the outer light, entering feebly, showed what looked like the corpses of furnitute in white shrouds.Everything that was not shrouded stood with its legs upwards.Lucy laid hold of Maggie's frock, and Maggie's heart beat rapidly.
Aunt Pullet half-opened the shutter and then unlocked the wardrobe, with a melancholy deliberateness which was quite in keeping with the funereal solemnity of the scene.The delicious scent of rose-leaves that issued from the wardrobe made the process of taking out sheet after sheet of silver-paper quite pleasant to assist at, though the sight of the bonnet at last was an anticlimax to Maggie, who would have preferred something more strikingly preternatural.But few things could have been more impressive to Mrs Tulliver.
She looked all round it in silence for some moments and then said emphatically, `Well, sister, I'll never speak against the full crowns again!'
It was a great concession, and Mrs Pullet felt it: she felt something was due to it.
`You'd like to see it on, sister?' she said, sadly.`I'll open the shutter a bit further.'
`Well, if you don't mind taking off your cap, sister,' said Mrs Tulliver.