‘Not so bad as in church,’ said Phyllis, ’only I am very tired, and it is so hot.’
‘We will help you home, then,’ said Mr. Mohun. As he took her up in his arms, Phyllis laughed, thanked him, replied to various inquiries from her sisters and the Westons—laughed again at sundry jokes from her brothers, then became silent, and was almost asleep, with her head on her papa’s shoulder, by the time they reached the hall-door. She thought it very strange to be laid down on the sofa in the drawing-room, and to find every one attending to her. Mrs. Weston bathed her forehead with lavender-water, and Lily cut open the sleeve of her frock; Jane fetched all manner of remedies, and Emily pitied her. She was rather frightened: she thought such a fuss would not be made about her unless she was very ill; she was faint and tired, and was glad when Mrs. Weston proposed that they should all come away, and leave her to go to sleep quietly.
Marianne was so absorbed in admiration of Phyllis that she did not speak one word all the way from church to the New Court, and stood in silence watching the operations upon her friend, till Mrs. Weston sent every one away.
Adeline rather envied Phyllis; she would willingly have endured the pain to be made of so much importance, and said to be better than a Spartan, which must doubtless be something very fine indeed!
Phyllis was waked by the bells ringing for the afternoon service; Mrs. Weston was sitting by her, reading, Claude came to inquire for her, and to tell her that as she had lost her early dinner, she was to join the rest of the party at six. To her great surprise she felt quite well and fresh, and her arm was much better; Mrs. Weston pinned up her sleeve, and she set off with her to church, wondering whether Ada would remember to tell her what she had missed that afternoon at school. Those whose approbation was valuable, honoured Phyllis for her conduct, but she did not perceive it, or seek for it; she did not look like a heroine while running about and playing with Reginald and the dogs in the evening, but her papa had told her she was a good child, Claude had given her one of his kindest smiles, and she was happy. Even when Esther was looking at the mark left by the sting, and telling her that she was sure Miss Marianne Weston would have not been half so good, her simple, humble spirit came to her aid, and she answered, ’I’ll tell you what, Esther, Marianne would have behaved much better, for she is older, and never fidgets, and she would not have been angry like me, and just going to kill the wasp.’
CHAPTER X—COUSIN ROTHERWOOD
’We care not who says
And intends it dispraise,
That an Angler to a fool is next neighbour.’