Country life -- England -- Fiction; Domestic fiction; Invalids -- Fiction; Women -- Fiction
“_You_ didn’t, it’s certain,” said he, rolling his things up into a
bundle, “or you wouldn’t have tried to set me against the place!—so there
I have you! Recollect, I’m a lawyer, and can take advantage of you at any
time.”
She was, for once, without one word to say.
“Yes, yes,” added he, “I’ve had a grudge against you this long while
for calling me _Master_ Prout, when all the world knows I’ve been _Mr._
Prout ever so long. One would think I took my meals in the nursery.
So, mind you, Phillis, if ever you are uncivil to your mistress again,
or ever more call me _master_, I’ll show you I _am_ your master, in
one way or another. And, as for your not having answered the bell when
Mrs. Cheerlove wanted you, because you were making a cap, why, sooner
than keep her waiting for that, I’d have worn a brown-paper cap like a
carpenter. So now go and make the kettle boil—very boiling, indeed, for
I’m come to drink tea with Mrs. Cheerlove; and we Londoners don’t admire
tea made with lukewarm water, I assure you.”
Off she went, with “Well, I’m sure!” on her lips, but with by no means a
displeased look on her face; and I could not help thinking, “Some people
may steal a horse, while others dare not look over a hedge. She has taken
a good deal more from ‘Master Prout’ than she would from Mrs. Cheerlove.”
* * * * *
The Stone House, December 27.
When will wonders cease! I can hardly believe I am awake and in my
senses,—yet so it is:—yes, here I am, spending the Christmas holidays
with the Pevenseys:—
“And nothing meets my eye but sights of bliss.”
They had only been at home a few days when Arbell came in, all smiles,
to ask how I was, and to say that her mamma had thought a great deal
about me; and that it had occurred to her that as _I_ was an invalid, and
_she_ was an invalid, we should suit one another much better than if our
positions were more dissimilar; and that though we were not equal to a
merry Christmas, she did not see why we might not have a pleasant one. So
she had resolved on my occupying a certain bow-windowed blue room, with
dressing-room attached, during the holidays, and I should keep my own
hours, and choose my own companions, and dine early, and see as much or
as little of the family as I liked. She would not take no for an answer,
and she would send the close carriage for me the very next day.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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