“And yet you don’t think it is a bad life,” said Emily; “putting it like that! Fancy having to be of nice appearance; and quick and willing and trustworthy; and not wear spectacles waiting at table, as if one’s sight would alter then!” Emily put up her glass. “It must be very bad to be all that, or anything except the first. And I have never met people of that quality, except Peter and William. And they are neither of them quick. And I am not sure of Peter’s appearance.”
Theresa laughed.
“Well, now, Mr. Herrick, we have all been remiss in not asking you when your book is coming out,” said Francis, as the men came in. “A novel? Is that what they call it? But when is your book coming out, if I may put it in a safe way?”
“Oh, well, I believe very likely not at all. Perhaps I have come to your implied view of it,” said Herrick.
“Oh, well, I shouldn’t perhaps have put it in the way I did. And what does my view have to do with it? But I will confess that it did strike me as not a quite expected thing, that you should give your time to writing a book, that any lady might have written. I don’t mean that a lady could write your book. You won’t take me to mean what I don’t mean?”
“Mr. Fletcher, you are not blind, surely, to the fact that women often equal and surpass men in literary achievement?” said Miss Basden.
“Well, Miss Basden, I plead guilty to being old-fashioned in these matters. It is my inclination to put women on a plane of their own, and to regard them as coming down from it, when they take upon themselves the things that have been held fitter for men. And that perhaps leads to my implying that they do not do so well in those things. But I was meaning quite the opposite of disrespect to them, I assure you.”
“Oh, I see. There is the usual kind of contempt in that sentimental exaltation of women.”
“Miss Basden, believe me, it never has been so with me,” said Francis, earnestly.
“If Francis should marry Miss Basden,” said Emily to Theresa, “the school would go down just as Nicholas begins to need the comforts of old age. Unless he would live here with her.”
“He is good at living in other people’s houses,” said Theresa.
“I suppose living with him would embitter one,” said Emily.
“Suppose Merry should be embittered!” said Bumpus. “His personality would go to pieces.”
“Miss Basden apologizes for being a spinster rather more often than is necessary,” said Emily. “Of course I don’t mean it is not necessary, up to a point.”
“And his marrying her would put a stop to her being self-supporting,” said Bumpus. “That is what he does not like about her.”
“Where is my wife?” said Mr. Merry.
“She has run away and deserted us,” said Delia.
“She has gone up to sit for a few minutes in her room, I think, Mr. Merry,” said Miss Basden, stooping over the fire.
“Is she not well?” said Herrick, loudly. “Allow me, allow me, Miss Basden.”
“Yes, I think so, Mr. Herrick,” said Miss Basden. “She just wanted a few minutes to herself, as she does sometimes.”
“Not when she has guests!” said Herrick, still rather loudly.
“Hers is a solitary nature, I suppose,” said Miss Lydia, looking up.
“I think we owe this coffee to her,” said Masson, as a tray was brought in, followed by Mrs. Merry.
“William, what a charming first word of the evening for you to speak!” said Bumpus. “Giving someone her due.”
“We are very grateful to her for it,” said Miss Basden. “Coffee is a thing I never take on myself. I plead guilty to managing it much less well than Mrs. Merry.”
“I should like there to be no such thing as food, myself,” said Mrs. Merry, leaning back in her chair.
“Yes, Mother,” said Mr. Merry.
Francis looked at Mrs. Merry with long and almost inquiring sympathy.
“We must not ask our friends to dinner again, must we, Merry?” said Herrick in a low tone, breathing deeply.
“Oh, Mr. Herrick!” said Mr. Merry, leaning towards him. “Oh, you are not right, you know. Not if you take us up seriously, just when we are just feeling a little for you, in this little disturbance. No, no, not a disturbance, a pleasure for us all. Yes, yes, we all know.”
“I never can remember to eat, myself,” said Miss Basden, in a tone that addressed the company. “If I can remember, I always do, because I think one can do so much more, if one eats.”
“Ah, Miss Basden,” said Mr. Merry, his voice somehow dying away.
“Ah, the pleasures of our bodies!” said Miss Lydia, with the last word lower. “They are given to us as things that are right for us. If they are used rightly. If they are used rightly.”
“Charles, have you finished your coffee, dear?” said Mrs. Merry.
“Charles?” said Masson. “Oh, it is Merry’s Christian name.”
“How simple and kindly of him it seems to have one!” said Emily.
“A king’s name, too,” said Bumpus.
“Mrs. Merry, have you a name, apart from the maternal one by which we hear you designated?” said Mr. Burgess.
Mr. Merry’s eyes went to Mr. Burgess.
“Yes. My name is Emily,” said Mrs. Merry.
“My third name is Emily,” said Miss Basden. “What a lot of namesakes we are!”
“Yes, Miss Basden; very nice,” said Mr. Merry, his voice just avoiding a note of deprecation.
“And, Miss Basden, if I may ask, what are your other two names?” said Francis.
Miss Basden repeated two names; and there was a faint titter from one of the maids who were removing the coffee table.
“Mother,” said Mr. Merry, throwing a fierce glance from habit towards the titter, and rapidly withdrawing it; “what is it you were saying?”
“I hope Mrs. Merry will be quick, before
