I was much struck by the changed expression on Phoebe’s
face as soon as I had entered the room. She certainly
looked very ill, and when I questioned her avowed
she had suffered a good deal of pain in the night;
but the wild hard look had left her eyes. There
was intense depression, but that was all.
She evidently enjoyed the singing as much as ever:
and I took care to sing my best. When I had finished
I produced a story that I thought suitable, and began
to read to her. She listened for about half an
hour before she showed a symptom of weariness.
At the first sign I stopped.
‘Will you do something to please me in return?’
I asked, when she had thanked me very civilly.
’I want you to go on with this book by yourself
now. I know what you are going to say—that
you never read—that it makes your head
ache and tires you. But, if you care to please
me, you will waive all these objections, and we can
talk over the story to-morrow.’ Then I
told her about my invitation for this evening, and
about the beautiful Miss Hamilton, whose sweet face
had interested me. And when we had chatted quite
comfortably for a little while I rose to take my leave.
Of course she could not let me go without one sharp
little word.
‘You have been kinder to me to-day,’ she
said, pausing slightly. ’I suppose that
is because I let you take your own way with me.’
‘Every one likes his own way,’ I said
lightly. ’If I have been kinder to you,
as you say, possibly it is because you have deserved
kindness more.’ And I smiled at her and
patted the thin hand, as though she were a child,
and so ‘went on my way rejoicing,’ as they
say in the good old Book.
UP AT GLADWYN
Uncle Max had never been famous for punctuality.
He was slightly Bohemian in his habits, and rather
given to desultory bachelor ways; but his domestic
timekeeper, Mrs. Drabble, ruled him most despotically
in the matter of meals, and it was amusing to see
how she kept him and Mr. Tudor in order: neither
of them ventured to keep the dinner waiting, for fear
of the housekeeper’s black looks; such an offence
they knew would be expiated by cold fish and burnt-up
steaks. Uncle Max might invite the bishop to
dine, but if his lordship chose to be late Mrs. Drabble
would take no pains to keep her dinner hot.
’If gentlemen like to shilly-shally with their
food, they must take things as they find them,’
she would say; and if her master ever ventured to
remonstrate with her, she took care that he should
suffer for it for a week.
‘We must humour Mother Drabble,’ Mr. Tudor
would say good-humouredly. ’Every one has
a crotchet, and, after all, she is a worthy little
woman, and makes us very comfortable. I never
knew what good cooking meant until I came to the vicarage.’
And indeed Mrs. Drabble’s custards and flaky
crust were famed in the village. Miss Darrell
had once begged very humbly that her cook Parker might
take a lesson from her, but Mrs. Drabble refused point-blank.
