Dinner had soon to be dished up and taken in. Grannie changed her dress in a hurry, for father would not have been happy without. The Dickensons and all the rest were come, and our little parlour was just stuffed full. I saw the neighbours eyeing mother's green silk; and one or two of them made faces at one another about it on the sly, and I thought they were jealous. But they need not have been, if they had known how we were thinking about that silk dress, supposing the money should not come! Mrs. Dickenson asked mother where she had got it; and Mrs. Jenkins wanted to know how much she had paid by the yard; and Mrs. Raikes fingered it and said she knew of better to be had at a less price. And I did not think all this was quite mannerly, somehow; but mother seemed to like it, and she became quite merry. But father had a gloomy look, and I saw that he could not forget what he had heard. Just as we were sitting down to dinner, he spied me and said— "Where is your necklace, Phœbe?" "I didn't put it on, father," I said, getting red in the face. "Then go and put it on this minute, Phœbe," he said angrily. I could not help trembling a little, and I only just managed to get out the words,—"Grannie said—" "I don't care what grannie said, nor anybody else neither. Go and put it on,—d'you hear?" I looked at grannie, and she said, "Do as father tells you, Phœbe." So I rushed off, and put it on. But I did not like doing so. I had a sort of feeling that it was bought with money which was not ours, and which never might be, and I seemed almost to hate the coral necklace. For I could not bear to see grannie sad, and father so unlike himself. I don't think any of us enjoyed that Saturday very much, though to be sure there was plenty of talk and of laughing. CHAPTER VII. TO GO OR TO STAY. THOUGH father had said he did not mean to stop getting things from Trowgood's, because he was so sure the money would come to us, still he thought better of this. I am not at all sure that Trowgood, hearing what was going on, did not give father a hint that it was best to wait. Anyway we did wait. I think this waiting-time was a good thing for us. At least, I know it was good for me; and I suppose it might have been good for the others too, if they had been willing. For of course one must be willing, before anything can do one good in life; and father and mother were not willing. Father never seemed to think of any part of the matter as coming straight from God. All he talked about was Jem Morison and the lawyers—and very hotly he did talk at times. But, as I say, the waiting was good, or it ought to have been goad. It gave us leisure for thought, and for getting over the first excitement of the news. It's well to be able to sift and weigh a matter, before having to take action. To be sure, father had acted already, as regarded the things bought; but still in some measure his hands had been tied, and now they were tied yet more.