"I don't know what you mean," said Mr. Gibson. But he did; only he
was vexed, and did not choose to understand.
"Is she--well, is she like your Molly?--sweet-tempered and
sensible--with her gloves always mended, and neat about the feet, and
ready to do anything one asks her just as if doing it was the very
thing she liked best in the world?"
Mr. Gibson's face relaxed now, and he could understand all the
Squire's broken sentences and unexplained meanings.
"She is much prettier than Molly to begin with, and has very winning
ways. She's always well-dressed and smart-looking, and I know she
hasn't much to spend on her clothes, and always does what she's asked
to do, and is ready enough with her pretty, lively answers. I don't
think I ever saw her out of temper; but then I'm not sure if she
takes things keenly to heart, and a certain obtuseness of feeling
goes a great way towards a character for good temper, I've observed.
Altogether I think Cynthia is one in a hundred."
The Squire meditated a little. "Your Molly is one in a thousand, to
my mind. But then, you see, she comes of no family at all,--and I
don't suppose she'll have a chance of much money." This he said as if
he were thinking aloud, and without reference to Mr. Gibson, but it
nettled the latter, and he replied somewhat impatiently,--
"Well, but as there's no question of Molly in this business, I don't
see the use of bringing her name in, and considering either her
family or her fortune."
"No, to be sure not," said the Squire, rousing up. "My wits had gone
far afield, and I'll own I was only thinking what a pity it was she
wouldn't do for Osborne. But, of course, it's out of the
question--out of the question."
"Yes," said Mr. Gibson, "and if you will excuse me, Squire, I really
must go now, and then you'll be at liberty to send your wits afield
uninterrupted." This time he was at the door before the Squire
called him back. He stood impatiently hitting his top-boots with his
riding-whip, waiting for the interminable last words.
"I say, Gibson, we're old friends, and you're a fool if you take
anything I say as an offence. Madam your wife and I didn't hit it off
the only time I ever saw her. I won't say she was silly, but I think
one of us was silly, and it wasn't me. However, we'll pass that over.
Suppose you bring her, and this girl Cynthia (which is as outlandish
a Christian name as I'd wish to hear), and little Molly out here to
lunch some day,--I'm more at my ease in my own house,--and I'm more
sure to be civil, too. We need say nothing about Roger,--neither the
lass nor me,--and you keep your wife's tongue quiet, if you can. It
will only be like a compliment to you on your marriage, you know--and
no one must take it for anything more. Mind, no allusion or mention
of Roger, and this piece of folly. I shall see the girl then, and
I can judge her for myself; for, as you say, that will be the best
plan. Osborne will be here too; and he's always in his element
talking to women. I sometimes think he's half a woman himself, he
spends so much money and is so unreasonable."