“I believe I’ll call on Dolly,” she said. “It would be bad to quarrel with her; and perhaps now she’ll come back here to live with us;—only I forgot about Mr. Prong.” It was agreed, however, that she should call on her sister, and ask her to dine at the cottage on the following day.
She walked along the road straight into Baslehurst, and went at once to her sister’s lodgings. She had another place to visit before she returned home, but it was a place for which a later hour in the evening would suit her better. Mrs. Prime was at home; and Rachel, on being shown up into the sitting-room—a room in which every piece of furniture had become known to her during those Dorcas meetings—found not only her sister sitting there, but also Miss Pucker and Mr. Prong. Rachel had not seen that gentleman since she had learned that he was to become her brother-in-law, and hardly knew in what way to greet him; but it soon became apparent to her that no outward show of regard was expected from her at that moment.
“I think you know my sister, Mr. Prong,” said Dorothea. Whereupon Mr. Prong rose from his chair, took Rachel’s hand, pressing it between his own, and then sat down again. Rachel, judging from his countenance, thought that some cloud had passed also across the sunlight of his love. She made her little speech, giving her mother’s love, and adding her own assurance that she hoped her sister would come out and dine at the cottage.
“I really don’t know,” said Mrs. Prime. “Such goings about do cut up one’s time so much. I shouldn’t be here again till—”
“Of course you’d stay for tea with us,” said Rachel.
“And lose the whole afternoon!” said Mrs. Prime.
“Oh do!” said Miss Pucker. “You have been working so hard; hasn’t she now, Mr. Prong? At this time of the year a sniff of fresh air among the flowers does do a body so much good.” And Miss Pucker looked and spoke as though she also would like the sniff of fresh air.
“I’m very well in health, and am thankful for it. I can’t say that it’s needed in that way,” said Mrs. Prime.
“But mamma will be so glad to see you,” said Rachel.
“I think you ought to go, Dorothea,” said Mr. Prong; and even Rachel could perceive that there was some slight touch of authority in his voice. It was the slightest possible intonation of a command; but, nevertheless, it struck Rachel’s ears.
Mrs. Prime merely shook her head and sniffed. It was not for a supply of air that she used her nostrils on this occasion, but that she might indicate some grain of contempt for the authority which Mr. Prong had attempted to exercise. “I think I’d rather not, Rachel, thank you;—not to dinner, that is. Perhaps I’ll walk out in the evening after tea, when the work of the day is over. If I come then, perhaps my friend, Miss Pucker, may come with me.”
“And if your esteemed mamma will allow me to pay my respects,” said Mr. Prong, “I shall be most happy to accompany the ladies.”
It will be acknowledged that Rachel had no alternative left to her. She said that her mother would be happy to see Mr. Prong, and happy to see Miss Pucker also. As to herself, she made no such assertion, being in her present mood too full of her own thoughts to care much for the ordinary courtesies of life.
“I’m very sorry you won’t come to dinner, Dolly,” she said; but she abstained from any word of asking the others to tea.
“If it had only been Mr. Prong,” she said to her mother afterwards, “I should have asked him; for I suppose he’ll have to come to the house sooner or later. But I wouldn’t tell that horrid, squinting woman that you wanted to see her, for I’m sure you don’t.”
“But we must give them some cake and a glass of sweet wine,” said Mrs. Ray.
“She won’t have to take her bonnet off for that as she would for tea, and it isn’t so much like making herself at home here. I couldn’t bear to have to ask her up to my room.”
On leaving the house in the High Street, which she did about eight o’clock, she took her way towards the churchyard—not passing down Brewery Lane, by Mr. Tappitt’s house, but taking the main street which led from the High Street to the church. But at the corner, just as she was about to leave the High Street, she was arrested by a voice that was familiar to her, and, turning round, she saw Mrs. Cornbury seated in a low carriage, and driving a pair of ponies. “How are you, Rachel?” said Mrs. Cornbury, shaking hands with her friend, for Rachel had gone out into the street up to the side of the carriage, when she found that Mrs. Cornbury had stopped. “I’m going by the cottage—to papa’s. I see you are turning the other way; but if you’ve not much delay, I’ll stay for you and take you home.”
But Rachel had before her that other visit to make, and she was not minded either to omit it or postpone it. “I should like it so much,” said Rachel, “only—”
“Ah! well; I see. You’ve got other fish to fry. But, Rachel, look here, dear.” And Mrs. Cornbury almost whispered into her ear across the side of the pony carriage. “Don’t you believe quite all you hear. I’ll find out the truth, and you shall know. Goodbye.”
“Goodbye, Mrs. Cornbury,” said Rachel, pressing her friend’s hand as she parted from her. This allusion to her lover had called a blush up over her whole face, so that Mrs. Cornbury well knew that she had been understood. “I’ll see to it,” she said, driving away her
