Summarize the following text to main points and sub-points and make detailed explain for them:

ound Priscilla's neck, which was very far from being like her 
own, "I'm sure I'm willing to give way as far as is right, but who shouldn't 
dress alike if it isn't sisters? Would you have us go about looking as if we 
were no kin to one another—us that have got no mother and not another 
sister in the world? I'd do what was right, if I dressed in a gown dyed 
with cheese-colouring; and I'd rather you'd choose, and let me wear what 
pleases you." 
"There you go again! You'd come round to the same thing if one talked to 
you from Saturday night till Saturday morning. It'll be fine fun to see 
how you'll master your husband and never raise your voice above the 
singing o' the kettle all the while. I like to see the men mastered!" 
"Don't talk so, Priscy," said Nancy, blushing. "You know I don't mean 
ever to be married." 
"Oh, you never mean a fiddlestick's end!" said Priscilla, as she arranged 
her discarded dress, and closed her bandbox. "Who shall I have to work 
for when father's gone, if you are to go and take notions in your head and 
be an old maid, because some folks are no better than they should be? I 
haven't a bit o' patience with you—sitting on an addled egg for ever, as if 
there was never a fresh un in the world. One old maid's enough out o' 
two sisters; and I shall do credit to a single life, for God A'mighty meant 
me for it. Come, we can go down now. I'm as ready as a mawkin can be—
there's nothing awanting to frighten the crows, now I've got my ear-
droppers in." 
As the two Miss Lammeters walked into the large parlour together, any 
one who did not know the character of both might certainly have 
supposed that the reason why the square-shouldered, clumsy, high-
featured Priscilla wore a dress the facsimile of her pretty sister's, was 
either the mistaken vanity of the one, or the malicious contrivance of the 
other in order to set off her own rare beauty. But the good-natured self-
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forgetful cheeriness and common-sense of Priscilla would soon have 
dissipated the one suspicion; and the modest calm of Nancy's speech and 
manners told clearly of a mind free from all disavowed devices. 
Places of honour had been kept for the Miss Lammeters near the head of 
the principal tea-table in the wainscoted parlour, now looking fresh and 
pleasant with handsome branches of holly, yew, and laurel, from the 
abundant growths of the old garden; and Nancy felt an inward flutter, 
that no firmness of purpose could prevent, when she saw Mr. Godfrey 
Cass advancing to lead her to a seat between himself and Mr. 
Crackenthorp, while Priscilla was called to the opposite side between her 
father and the Squire. It certainly did make some difference to Nancy 
that the lover she had given up was the young man of quite the highest 
consequence in the parish—at home in a venerable and unique parlour, 
which was the extremity of grandeur in her experience, a parlour 
where she might one day have been mistress, with the consciousness that 
she was spoken of as "Madam Cass", the Squire's wife. These 
circumstances exalted her inward drama in her own eyes, and deepened 
the emphasis with which she declared to herself that not the most 
dazzling rank should induce her to marry a man whose conduct showed 
him careless of his character, but that, "love once, love always", was the 
motto of a true and pure woman, and no man should ever have any right 
over her which would be a call on her to destroy the dried flowers that 
she treasured, and always would treasure, for Godfrey Cass's sake. And 
Nancy was capable of keeping her word to herself under very trying 
conditions. Nothing but a becoming blush betrayed the moving thoughts 
that urged themselves upon her as she accepted the seat next to Mr. 
Crackenthorp; for she was so instinctively neat and adroit in all her 
actions, and her pretty lips met each other with such quiet firmness, that 
it would have been difficult for her to appear agitated. 
It was not the rector's practice to let a charming blush pass without an 
appropriate compliment. He was not in the least lofty or aristocratic, but 
simply a merry-eyed, small-featured, grey-haired man, with his chin 
propped by an ample, many-creased white neckcloth which seemed to 
predominate over every other point in his person, and somehow to 
impress its peculiar character on his remarks; so that to have considered 
his amenities apart from his cravat would have been a severe, and 
perhaps a dangerous, effort of abstraction. 
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"Ha, Miss Nancy," he said, turning his head within his cravat and smiling 
down pleasantly upon her, "when anybody pretends this has been a 
severe winter, I shall tell them I saw the roses blooming on New Year's 
Eve—eh, Godfrey, what doyou say?" 
Godfrey made no reply, and avoided looking at Nancy very markedly; for 
though these complimentary personalities were held to be in excellent 
taste in old-fashioned Raveloe society, reverent love has a politeness of 
its own which it teaches to men otherwise of small schooling. But the 
Squire was rather impatient at Godfrey's showing himself a dull spark in 
this way. By this advanced hour of the day, the Squire was always in 
higher spirits than we have seen him in at the breakfast-table, and felt it 
quite pleasant to fulfil the hereditary duty of being noisily jovial and 
patronizing: the large silver snuff-box was in active service and was 
offered without fail to all neighbours from time to time, however often 
they might have declined the favour. At present, the Squire had only 
given an express welcome to the heads of families as they appeared; but 
always as the evening deepened, his hospitality rayed out more widely, 
till he had tapped the youngest guests on the back and shown a peculiar 
fondness for their presence, in the full belief that they must feel their 
lives made happy by their belonging to a parish where there was such a 
hearty man as Squire Cass to invite them and wish them well. Even in 
this early stage of the jovial mood, it was natural that he should wish to 
supply his son's deficiencies by looking and speaking for him. 
"Aye, aye," he began, offering his snuff-box to Mr. Lammeter, who for 
the second time bowed his head and waved his hand in stiff rejection of 
the offer, "us old fellows may wish ourselves young to-night, when we see 
the mistletoe-bough in the White Parlour. It's true, most things are gone 
back'ard in these last thirty years—the country's going down since the 
old king fell ill. But when I look at Miss Nancy here, I begin to think the 
lasses keep up their quality;—ding me if I remember a sample to match 
her, not when I was a fine young fellow, and thought a deal about my 
pigtail. No offence to you, madam," he added, bending to Mrs. 
Crackenthorp, who sat by him, "I didn't know you when you were as 
young as Miss Nancy here." 
Mrs. Crackenthorp—a small blinking woman, who fidgeted incessantly 
with her lace, ribbons, and gold chain, turning her head about and 
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making subdued noises, very much like a guinea-pig that twitches its 
nose and soliloquizes in all company indiscriminately—now blinked and 
fidgeted towards the Squire, and said, "Oh, no—no offence." 
This emphatic compliment of the Squire's to Nancy was felt by others 
besides Godfrey to have a diplomatic significance; and her father gave a 
slight additional erectness to his back, as he looked across the table at 
her with complacent gravity. That grave and orderly senior was not going 
to bate a jot of his dignity by seeming elated at the notion of a match 
between his family and the Squire's: he was gratified by any honour paid 
to his daughter; but he must see an alteration in several ways before his 
consent would be vouchsafed. His spare but healthy person, and high-
featured firm face, that looked as if it had never been flushed by excess, 
was in strong contrast, not only with the Squire's, but with the 
appearance of the Raveloe farmers generally—in accordance with a 
favourite saying of his own, that "breed was stronger than pasture". 
"Miss Nancy's wonderful like what her mother was, though; isn't she, 
Kimble?" said the stout lady of that name, looking round for her 
husband. 
But Doctor Kimble (country apothecaries in old days enjoyed that title 
without authority of diploma), being a thin and agile man, was flitting 
about the room with his hands in his pockets, making himself agreeable 
to his feminine patients, with medical impartiality, and being welcomed 
everywhere as a doctor by hereditary right—not one of those miserable 
apothecaries who canvass for practice in strange neighbourhoods, and 
spend all their income in starving their one horse, but a man of 
substance, able to keep an extravagant table like the best of his patients. 
Time out of mind the Raveloe doctor had been a Kimble; Kimble was 
inherently a doctor's name; and it was difficult to contemplate firmly the 
melancholy fact that the actual Kimble had no son, so tha

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