So they crossed over the street to speak to Mrs. Goodenough.
"We've just been seeing my wife and her daughter off to London. Mrs.
Gibson has gone up for a week!"
"Deary, deary, to London, and only for a week! Why, I can remember
its being a three days' journey! It'll be very lonesome for you, Miss
Molly, without your young companion!"
"Yes!" said Molly, suddenly feeling as if she ought to have taken
this view of the case. "I shall miss Cynthia very much."
"And you, Mr. Gibson; why, it'll be like being a widower over again!
You must come and drink tea with me some evening. We must try and
cheer you up a bit amongst us. Shall it be Tuesday?"
In spite of the sharp pinch which Molly gave to his arm, Mr. Gibson
accepted the invitation, much to the gratification of the old lady.
"Papa, how could you go and waste one of our evenings! We have but
six in all, and now but five; and I had so reckoned on our doing all
sorts of things together."
"What sort of things?"
"Oh, I don't know: everything that is unrefined and ungenteel," added
she, slily looking up into her father's face.
His eyes twinkled, but the rest of his face was perfectly grave. "I'm
not going to be corrupted. With toil and labour I've reached a very
fair height of refinement. I won't be pulled down again."
"Yes, you will, papa. We'll have bread-and-cheese for lunch this
very day. And you shall wear your slippers in the drawing-room every
evening you'll stay quietly at home; and oh, papa, don't you think I
could ride Nora Creina? I've been looking out the old grey skirt, and
I think I could make myself tidy."
"Where is the side-saddle to come from?"
"To be sure, the old one won't fit that great Irish mare. But I'm not
particular, papa. I think I could manage somehow."
"Thank you. But I'm not quite going to return into barbarism. It may
be a depraved taste, but I should like to see my daughter properly
mounted."
"Think of riding together down the lanes--why, the dog-roses must be
all out in flower, and the honeysuckles, and the hay--how I should
like to see Merriman's farm again! Papa, do let me have one ride with
you! Please do. I'm sure we can manage it somehow."
And "somehow" it was managed. "Somehow" all Molly's wishes came to
pass; there was only one little drawback to this week of holiday and
happy intercourse with her father. Everybody would ask them out to
tea. They were quite like bride and bridegroom; for the fact was,
that the late dinners which Mrs. Gibson had introduced into her own
house, were a great inconvenience in the calculations of the small
tea-drinkings at Hollingford. How ask people to tea at six, who dined
at that hour? How, when they refused cake and sandwiches at half-past
eight, how induce other people who were really hungry to commit a
vulgarity before those calm and scornful eyes? So there had been a
great lull of invitations for the Gibsons to Hollingford tea-parties.
Mrs. Gibson, whose object was to squeeze herself into "county
society," had taken this being left out of the smaller festivities
with great equanimity; but Molly missed the kind homeliness of the
parties to which she had gone from time to time as long as she could
remember; and though, as each three-cornered note was brought in,
she grumbled a little over the loss of another charming evening
with her father, she really was glad to go again in the old way
among old friends. Miss Browning and Miss Phoebe were especially
compassionate towards her in her loneliness. If they had had their
will she would have dined there every day; and she had to call upon
them very frequently in order to prevent their being hurt at her
declining the dinners. Mrs. Gibson wrote twice during her week's
absence to her husband. That piece of news was quite satisfactory
to the Miss Brownings, who had of late held themselves a great deal
aloof from a house where they chose to suppose that their presence
was not wanted. In their winter evenings they had often talked over
Mr. Gibson's household, and having little besides conjecture to go
upon, they found the subject interminable, as they could vary the
possibilities every day. One of their wonders was how Mr. and Mrs.
Gibson really got on together; another was whether Mrs. Gibson was
extravagant or not. Now two letters during the week of her absence
showed what was in those days considered a very proper amount of
conjugal affection. Yet not too much--at elevenpence-halfpenny
postage. A third letter would have been extravagant. Sister looked to
sister with an approving nod as Molly named the second letter, which
arrived in Hollingford the very day before Mrs. Gibson was to return.
They had settled between themselves that two letters would show the
right amount of good feeling and proper understanding in the Gibson
family: more would have been extravagant; only one would have been
a mere matter of duty. There had been rather a question between
Miss Browning and Miss Phoebe as to which person the second letter
(supposing it came) was to be addressed to. It would be very conjugal
to write twice to Mr. Gibson; and yet it would be very pretty if
Molly came in for her share.