Githa gives some gentlewomanly advice

“Well, well, Gunnie,” Githa said as she settled wearily into the chair Gunnilda offered her. “I’ve heard some interesting news about you.”

“Why, what?”

“Don’t play innocent with me. You’re going to be the Duke’s daughter’s godmother, that’s what I heard!”

“Oh, Githa,” Gunnilda sighed. “It’s true – it’s true – I just don’t know what to do.”

“Why, you’ve been a godmother before!”

“But not to a ladyship!”

“I guess they have souls just like everyone else.”

“Well, I guess so. But that’s not what I meant. I mean – oh, I don’t know what I mean!” she said, laying her head down on her arms. “I just don’t know who or what I am any more.”

“Oh, Gunnie, what rot!”

“But Githa – look at me! A month ago I was just plain old Gunnie Hogge living down in my little daub house, and today I don’t know what I am!”

“You’re just the same old silly hen you always were.”

“That’s the problem!” Gunnilda moaned. “I have a lady’s house, and my children play with gentlemen’s and lords’ children, and my husband has men working under him, and meanwhile I’m just the same silly old frowsy hen I always was! I feel like I’m the only thing that don’t belong in this house!”

“Oh, rot! Your problem, Gunnie Hogge, is that you don’t think enough of yourself. You aren’t a thing like your sisters, who gave themselves such airs that they fairly floated.”

“A pile of good that did ‘em!” she said, thinking of the miserable, harried housewives her sisters had become.

“That’s because they thought themselves above their station, dear, but you think yourself below yours. You are fairly a gentlewoman now, and you still act and think and dress like a peasant.”

“Oh, don’t remind me of my dress,” she moaned. “I have to stand up next to my lord Earl when that baby is christened, and I will just die of shame. He’s so fine, and just look at me!”

“You certainly intend to have a new dress, at least – I hope!” Githa said.

“I don’t know nothing about fine dresses, Githa. Oh, you don’t understand! You was always a gentlewoman, your father had a real fine farm and you and your sisters was always dressed like fine ladies. And you still do – and I just don’t know how you always look so clean and cool with all the work you do, when I get just like a wet hen soon as I lift a hand.”

“Nonsense, Gunnie. You listen to me – you have those two women that do work for you now, don’t you?”

“Well, they do the laundry and take care of the goats and chickens and make the cheese.”

“So, you have more time than you ever did. And what you need to do with that time is act like a lady. When you get a good bit of time to work, you need to start working on making yourself some nice dresses. And whenever you get a moment to yourself, you stop and fix your hair, and smooth out your dress, and wash your face if you’re hot. That’s how you always look cool and clean. And take off your apron when you’re not working, child! I don’t think I’ve ever seen you without it, except at church! A gentlewoman is supposed to pretend she doesn’t work.”

“I can’t do all that,” Gunnilda said wearily. “I don’t know nothing about fine dresses, and no matter how much time I have, I always find more work to do in it.”

“I shall make you your dress for the christening, dear, and then you shall have a pattern.”

“Oh, Githa, your dresses always are so pretty!”

“I thank you, my dear. But we need to do something about your hair, too. You can’t just pin it up any old way. Here, let me show you.” Githa got up and waddled around behind Gunnilda’s chair.

“Oh, how I wish my hair was as straight and soft as yours!” she sighed as she plucked out the pins.

“I always wished I had curly hair like my sister Ana.”

“No, you don’t. You can do anything you like with this hair, Gunnie. It’s about time you started doing something with it! I will just do it up like mine for now, but you can do anything with it. It would be real pretty braided. Give me your hands and let me show you what I’m doing.”

After she had finished, she took Gunnilda to the water barrel, which was the closest thing to a mirror she had in the house.

“Oh, Githa!” she moaned. “I don’t know my own self!”

“That’s because you don’t think you’re pretty. But you know, child, you’re just as pretty as any of your sisters. I guess it’s a good thing you hid it as well as you did, because it got you Alwy, and that turned out to be a real good thing for you. But now that you have him, you might as well be pretty, don’t you think?”

“I don’t know,” Gunnilda sighed.

“Oh, Gunnie! You’re a trial! You’re as bad as that Egelric, who goes around dressed worse than my poor Ethelmund, and he’s a squire. I just wish Ethelmund had half the energy your man has – you would see the house I would have, and how finely I would be dressed!”

Just then Gunnilda heard a familiar clomping coming up the front steps, and she gasped. “Alwy’s coming!” she cried, her hands flying up to her hair.

“Don’t you touch your hair, child! Just you wait till he gets a look at you!” Githa grinned.

“Oh, Alwy, Githa brought us a jug of her currant wine, isn’t that sweet of her?” Gunnilda gushed as Alwy came in.

But Alwy did not look at the jug on the table.

“Well, Gunnie, I don’t know but I guess that’s not all she did today,” he grinned.

“Oh!” Gunnilda blushed.

“Well, Alwy, what do you know!” Githa crowed. “It seems that all this time you had a pretty wife under that hair!”

“Well, I don’t know, but I guess I always knowed she was pretty,” Alwy said shyly, stroking Gunnilda’s cheek with the backs of his fingers. “Are you going to leave it like that, Gunnie?”

“She had better!” Githa cried.