Part 119 (2/2)
”They left me all,” she said.
”Then be so good as to put them on. I don't terminate this visit until I have seen you out of doors.”
To contend would be more trouble than to obey. She wrapped herself up and went out with Mr. Snow. Her steps were almost too feeble to walk alone.
”See the lovely day it is! And you, an invalid, suffering from nothing but dumps, not to be out in it! It's nearly as warm as September.
Halloa, young lady! are you planting cabbages?”
They had turned an angle and come upon Miss Meta. She was digging away with a child's spade, scattering mould over the path; her woollen shawl, put on for warmth, had turned round, and her hat had fallen back, with the ardour of her labours. David Jekyl, who was digging to more purpose close by, was grumbling at the scattered mould on his clean paths.
”I'll sweep it up, David: I'll sweep it up!” the young lady said.
”Fine sweeping it 'ud be!” grunted David.
”I declare it's as warm as summer in this path!” cried Mr. Snow. ”Now mind, Mrs. George, you shall stay here for half an hour; and if you grow tired there's a bench to sit upon. Little damsel, if mamma goes indoors, you tell me the next time I come. She is to stay out.”
”I'll not tell of mamma,” said Meta, throwing down her spade and turning her earnest eyes, her rosy cheeks, full on Mr. Snow.
He laughed as he walked away. ”You are to stay out for the half-hour, mind you, Mrs. George. I insist upon it.”
Direct disobedience would not have been expedient, if only in the light of example to Meta; but Maria had rather been out on any other day, or been ordered to any other path. This was the first time she had seen David Jekyl since the Bank had failed, and his father's loss was very present to her.
”How are you, David?” she inquired.
”I'm among the middlins,” shortly answered David.
”And your father? I heard he was ill.”
”So he is ill. He couldn't be worser.”
”I suppose the coming winter is against him?”
”Other things are again him as well as the coming winter,” returned David. ”Fretting, for one.”
Ah, how bitter it all was! But David did not mean to allude in any offensive manner to the past, or to hurt the feelings of George G.o.dolphin's wife. It was his way.
”Is Jonathan better?” she asked.
”He isn't of much account, since he got that hurt,” was David's answer.
”Doing about three days' work in a week! It's to be hoped times 'll mend.”
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