"That's your affection!--taking the idea of my death so coolly. But I am not going to die yet, my girl--not yet, not yet. Why, there was a man who grew to be old, much older than I am, and who was suddenly made young and handsome and well-formed, with any amount of money at his command----" "Oh, hush, father! These are wicked thoughts. You make me tremble." "Why do you provoke me, then?" he cried, raising his crutch stick as though he would like to strike her. "You see how I am suffering, and you haven't a spark of feeling in you. Haven't I enough to put up with already, without being irritated by my own flesh and blood? There _was_ such a man, and there's no harm in speaking of him. What was his name? This infernal rheumatism drives everything out of my head. What was his name?" "Faust." "You have read about him?" "Yes; and I went to the theatre and saw the most lovely opera about it. I can play nearly all the music in it." "You can play, eh? How did you manage that? Who gave you lessons?" "Aunt Leth. She has a beautiful piano." "You never told me you had been to the theatre." "I have told you often that I have been with Aunt and Uncle Leth to different theatres." "But to this particular one, where the opera was played?" "Yes, I told you, father. You must have forgotten it." "The opera! An expensive amusement which only rich people can afford. Your aunt took you, of course?" "Yes." "And she is poor, eh?--so very, very poor that it is quite wonderful how she manages!" "She had a ticket given to her for a box that almost touched the ceiling. She could not afford to pay for it. Every time she has taken me to a theatre it was with a ticket given to her by Uncle Leth's relations. She _is_ poor." "And I am poorer. If you have read about Faust--if you go to the theatre and see him, why do you call me wicked for simply speaking of him? Is there really any truth in it, I wonder? There are strange things in the world. _Could_ life and youth be bought? If it could--if it could----" He paused, and looked around with trembling eagerness. Phoebe was too much frightened to speak for a little while; her father's eager looks and words terrified her. In a few minutes he recovered himself, and said, coldly, "Finish about your aunt and uncle." "Yes, father, I will. It isn't much I want. Next Saturday is my birthday, and Uncle Leth comes home early from his bank. He has never been to Parksides; and Aunt Leth hasn't been here for years. May I ask them to come in the evening?" "Is that all--you are sure that is all?" "Yes, that is all." Miser Farebrother felt as if a great weight had been lifted from his heart. He had been apprehensive that Phoebe intended to ask him to lend them a sum of money. "They wished me," said Phoebe, "to spend my birthday at their house; but I thought I _should_ like them to come here instead. They made a party for me last year, and the year before last too; and it is so mean to be always taking and never giving."