Volume I Part 26 (1/2)
”If Mr. Cornwall proposes to Phoebe--which he will--and if she accepts him--which she will--and if he speaks to Phoebe's father, and Phoebe's father will not hear of it, what is to be done?”
”My dear child, you are putting a riddle to me.”
”What I want to know is,” said f.a.n.n.y, very determinedly, ”whether, if Phoebe's father refuses his consent, Phoebe ought to marry without it.”
She felt that she had achieved a triumph in putting it so clearly.
”Would you marry without ours?” asked Mrs. Lethbridge.
”Mother, be logical, as Fred Cornwall says. Did you not say yourself that the cases are different?”
”Yes, I did,” replied the perplexed mother.
”Well, there it is, then,” said f.a.n.n.y; and as her mother did not speak, she relentlessly opened another broadside.
”If an honourable gentleman really and truly loves a young lady, and if a young lady really and truly loves him in return, and if they are worthy of each other, and if there is a fair prospect of his getting along in the world in an honourable profession, and of their being truly happy together, ought they not to marry in spite of a miserly hunks of a father?”
”My dear,” said Mrs. Lethbridge, ”let us drop the subject, and hope for the best.”
”Thank you, mother. _We_ know that Phoebe is not happy at home.”
”It is so, unfortunately.”
”And _we_ know that our home is hers if she should ever be without one.”
”Yes, my dear.”
”Then, my own dearest mother,” said f.a.n.n.y, putting her arms round the good mother's neck and showering kisses upon her, ”there is nothing more to be said.”
CHAPTER XVIII.
MRS. PAMFLETT DEVELOPS A SUDDEN AFFECTION FOR PHOEBE.
Uncle Leth's day-dream was not realized--but then his day-dreams never were. When he and his family, travelling third-cla.s.s, reached the station for Parksides, there was no Miser Farebrother to receive them with open arms and a carriage. Phoebe was there, and that was quite as good--almost more than they expected. She was a favourite with the station-master and ticket-takers, who always admitted her to the platform, whether the gates were closed or not; and the Lethbridges, looking out of the window, saw her waving her handkerchief to them, and running along the platform, the moment they were in sight. Then there was such a kissing and hugging as made the hearts of the unenvious ones glad to witness, and the mouths of the envious ones to water, wis.h.i.+ng they had a free ticket to partic.i.p.ate in an entertainment so delightful.
”It _is_ good of you to come and meet us,” said f.a.n.n.y. ”I was wondering all the way whether you would.”
”I did not know whether I should be able,” said Phoebe, in a flutter of excitement; ”but Mrs. Pamflett has been very kind. I hardly liked to ask her to help me with the tea; but she came and offered of her own accord, and said perhaps I would like to go and meet my friends. So here I am.”
Mr. Lethbridge opened his ears upon mention of Mrs. Pamflett, and he was glad to hear so good an account of her. An act of thoughtfulness and good-nature from her was a guarantee for her son, who had discounted his acceptance for three hundred pounds for the dramatic author and Kiss.
They had all brought modest birthday presents for Phoebe, which they handed to her at once, with flowers and kisses and the best of affectionate wishes. Bob was in the seventh heaven in consequence of being allowed a share in the kissing business.
”I did not have time to write to you last night,” whispered f.a.n.n.y to Phoebe. ”He has come home, and had tea with us. He is looking so well!
brown, and handsomer than ever. What a perfectly lovely day!”
They walked to Parksides, expressing pleasure at everything--at the weather, at the scenery, at the pretty village, at the children, at the cottages, at the church--all of which, it seemed to the little party, had put on a holiday garb in honour of Phoebe. The flowers were brighter, the sunlight clearer, the birds sang more sweetly, as they walked and talked, each of the Lethbridges claiming a share in Phoebe's society, and each obtaining it. Now with Bob, now with f.a.n.n.y, now with Aunt Leth, now with Uncle--she ran from one to another, chatting gaily, and bursting out into s.n.a.t.c.hes of song. It was her day, her very own--a day of suns.h.i.+ne without and within.