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,
spirited 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 in
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.