“I think we can do without him,” said Cherry, laughing.
“Of course we can,” said Augusta, who was not laughing.
“But you might as well come all the same,” said Mary.
“There’s metal more attractive somewhere else,” said Augusta.
“I cannot bear to see so much fuss made with the young men,” said Mrs. Tappitt. “We never did it when I was young. Did we, Mrs. Rowan?”
“I don’t think there’s much change,” said Mrs. Rowan; “we used to be very glad to get the young men when we could, and to do without them when we couldn’t.”
“And that’s just the way with us,” said Cherry.
“Speak for yourself,” said Augusta.
During all this time Mr. Tappitt spoke never a word. He also sipped his glass of wine, and as he sipped it he brooded over his wrath. Who were these Rowans that they should have come about his house and premises, and forced everything out of its proper shape and position? The young man sat there as though he were lord of everything—so Tappitt declared to himself; and his own wife was snubbed in her own parlour as soon as she opened her mouth. There was an uncomfortable atmosphere of discord in the room, which gradually pervaded them all, and made even the girls feel that things were going wrong.
Mrs. Tappitt rose from her chair, and made a stiff bow across the table to her guest, understanding that that was the proper way in which to effect a retreat into the drawing-room; whereupon Luke opened the door, and the ladies went. “Thank you, sir,” said Mrs. Tappitt very solemnly as she passed by him. Mrs. Rowan, going first, had given him a loving little nod of recognition, and Mary had pinched his arm. Martha uttered a word of thanks, intended for conciliation; Augusta passed him in silence with her nose in the air; and Cherry, as she went by, turned upon him a look of dismay. He returned Cherry’s look with a shake of his head, and both of them understood that things were going wrong.
“I don’t think I’ll take any more wine, sir,” said Rowan.
“Do as you like,” said Tappitt. “It’s there if you choose to take it.”
“It seems to me, Mr. Tappitt, that you want to quarrel with me,” said Luke.
“You can form your own opinion about that. I’m not bound to tell my mind to everybody.”
“Oh, no; certainly not. But it’s very unpleasant going on in that way in the same house. I’m thinking particularly of Mrs. Tappitt and the girls.”
“You needn’t trouble yourself about them at all. You may leave me to take care of them.”
Luke had not sat down since the ladies left the room, and now determined that he had better not do so. “I think I’ll say good afternoon,” said Rowan.
“Good day to you,” said Tappitt, with his face turned away, and his eyes fixed upon one of the open windows.
“Well, Mr. Tappitt, if I have to say goodbye to you in that way in your own house, of course it must be for the last time. I have not meant to offend you, and I don’t think I’ve given you ground for offence.”
“You don’t, don’t you?”
“Certainly not. If, unfortunately, there must be any disagreement between us about matters of business, I don’t see why that should be brought into private life.”
“Look here, young man,” said Tappitt, turning upon him. “You lectured me in my countinghouse this morning, and I don’t intend that you shall lecture me here also. I’m drinking my own wine in my own parlour, and choose to drink it in peace and quietness.”
“Very well, sir; I will not disturb you much longer. Perhaps you will make my apologies to Mrs. Tappitt, and tell her how much obliged I am by her hospitality, but that I will not trespass upon it any longer. I’ll get a bed at the Dragon, and I’ll write a line to my mother or sister.” Then Luke left the room, took his hat up from the hall, and made his way out of the house.
He had much to occupy his mind at the present moment. He felt that he was being turned out of Mr. Tappitt’s house, but would not much have regarded that if no one was concerned in it but Mr. Tappitt himself. He had, however, been on very intimate terms with all the ladies of the family; even for Mrs. Tappitt he had felt a friendship; and for the girls—especially for Cherry—he had learned to entertain an easy brotherly affection, which had not weighed much with him as it grew, but which it was not in his nature to throw off without annoyance. He had acknowledged to himself, as soon as he found himself among them, that the Tappitts did not possess, in their ways and habits of life, quite all that he should desire in his dearest and most intimate friends. I do not know that he had thought much of this; but he had felt it. Nevertheless he had determined that he would like them. He intended to make his way in life as a tradesman, and boldly resolved that he would not be above his trade. His mother sometimes reminded him, with perhaps not the truest pride, that he was a gentleman. In answer to this he had once or twice begged her to define the word, and then there had been some slight, very slight, disagreement between them. In the end the mother always gave way to the son; as to whom she believed that the sun shone with more special brilliancy for him than for any other of God’s creatures. Now, as he left the brewery house, he remembered how intimate he had been with them all but a few hours since, arranging matters for their ball, and giving orders about the place as though he
