Volume Ii Part 4 (1/2)
”Yes, sir,” said Jeremiah, obsequiously.
”We can't have all we wish,” pursued Miser Farebrother; and Jeremiah, although he was impatient to go in search of Phoebe, whom he now looked upon as his property, could not help taking interest and pleasure in his master's gentle and philosophic departure, which he, better than any one of the other listeners, could appreciate at its true value. ”In a hundred years to come, a carriage and a wheelbarrow will be all the same to us. Still, I am glad to hear of your good fortune.” (Mr.
Lethbridge stared, and wondered whether he was awake or asleep, or whether he had said anything of which he was unconscious.) ”How well and hale you look! Not a day older--not a day. You must tell me the secret; though I fear it is too late for me. And this young gentleman”--turning to Bob, who became suddenly very hot and uncomfortable--”your son, eh?--your bright boy?”
”Yes,” said Mr. Lethbridge; ”our son Robert.”
”How do you do, nephew?” said Miser Farebrother, giving Bob two fingers, which, when Bob got them, he did not know what to do with. ”And how is the world using _you_?”
”Extremely well, sir, thank you,” Bob blurted out, without in the least knowing what he was saying; for, instead of the world using him extremely well, it was not using him at all.
”How pleasant to hear!” exclaimed Miser Farebrother. ”I feel like rubbing my hands, but one has my crutch-stick in it, and the other is leaning on Jeremiah. You come of a lucky stock; go on and prosper, nephew. And this--” He turned to f.a.n.n.y, who, in a feverish state, was awaiting recognition. She was so confused that it was not until hours afterward that her indignation was excited at being referred to as ”this”--as though she were a chattel.
”Our daughter f.a.n.n.y,” said Aunt Leth, observing that her husband was incapable of speech.
”Kiss me, niece,” said Miser Farebrother. He raised his wrinkled face, and f.a.n.n.y put her lips to it. He called a joyous look into his eyes, and in a kind of rapture murmured: ”The kiss of beauty! But don't be too lavish of them, niece.” He peered around as though he suddenly missed somebody. ”Where is your young gentleman, niece?”
Jeremiah chuckled quietly.
”_My_ young gentleman!” cried f.a.n.n.y, flus.h.i.+ng up.
Her mother gave her a warning look.
”Yes, your young gentleman. There is one here, isn't there? or did Phoebe make a mistake?”
”You mean Mr. Cornwall,” said Aunt Leth, in a gentle tone.
”I think that is the name Phoebe mentioned. A lawyer, isn't he?”
”Yes,” replied f.a.n.n.y, before her mother could speak, ”and a very clever one.”
”Bravo! bravo!” exclaimed Miser Farebrother. ”That is as it should be. I am sure he is a very clever one; I hope we are not wrong in our opinion of him--for your sake, niece, for your sake. Sister-in-law, brother-in-law, I congratulate you. Niece, kiss me again.”
f.a.n.n.y held back, but her mother murmured, ”f.a.n.n.y!” and the girl kissed the miser's wrinkled face again, upon which he smacked his lips and cast up his eyes languis.h.i.+ngly.
”And now,” he said, ”I must really go and find my dear Phoebe and the very clever lawyer. _We_ must go; mustn't we, Jeremiah? See, sister-in-law, Jeremiah brought some flowers for my dear child, and happening to forget them when she left the table, she sent him back for them. I am ashamed of myself for having detained him. Do you know where Phoebe is?--this way--or that? That way? Thank you; I shall easily find her. Remember what I said to you--we must really see more of each other; you must come here oftener. And you, brother-in-law, and you, niece. And hark you, nephew: when I asked you how the world was using you, you answered, 'Extremely well, sir.' You did, did you not?”
”Yes, sir,” said Bob, not knowing what was coming.
”You were wrong, and you are wrong again. Sister-in-law, too: you called me 'Mr. Farebrother?'”
”Yes,” said Aunt Leth, faintly.
”But why? why? Why 'sir' and why 'Mr.'? Everybody else calls me Miser Farebrother. I like it; it tickles me. Pray call me that for the future, like good-natured souls, as you are. Come, Jeremiah, come. Phoebe will be impatient for your flowers.”
He hobbled away, clinging to Jeremiah's arm, and presently said,
”Well, Jeremiah?”
”Thank you,” said Jeremiah.