“No,” said Phoebe, under her breath; but the reply was not noticed. She nearly dropped the teapot out of her hand when she heard the word—Shop! Yes, to be sure, that was what being “in trade” meant, but she had never quite realized it till now. Phoebe was going through a tremendous piece of mental discipline in these first days. She writhed secretly, and moaned to herself—why did not mamma tell me? but she sat quite still outside, and smiled as if it was all quite ordinary and natural, and she had heard about the shop all her life. It seemed cruel and unkind to have sent her here without distinct warning of what she was going to meet. But Phoebe was a good girl, and would not blame her father and mother. No doubt they meant it “for the best.”
“Is Uncle Tom,” she said, faltering somewhat, “in the—shop now?”
“If I’m able,” said Mrs. Tozer, “I’ll walk that far with you this morning—or Tozer, I mean your grandfather, will go. It’s a tidy house o’ business, though I say it as shouldn’t, seeing it was him and me as made it all; though I don’t hold with Mrs. Tom’s nonsense about the new windows. Your Uncle Tom is as innocent as innocent, but as for her, she ain’t no favourite of mine, and I makes no bones about saying so, I don’t mind who hears.”
“She ain’t so bad as you make her out,” said Tozer. “She’s kind enough in her way. Your grandmother is a-going to show you off—that’s it, my dear. She can’t abide Tom’s wife, and she wants to show her as you’re far finer than her girls. I don’t say no. It’s nat’ral, and I’m not one as stands against nature; but don’t you be prejudiced by my old woman there. She is a prejudiced one. Nothing in the world will make her give up a notion when she’s took it into her head.”
“No, nothing; and ain’t I always right in the end? I should think you’ve proved that times enough,” said the old woman. “Yes, I’ll take a little, my dear, since you press me so pretty. Folks take many a thing when they’re pressed as they wouldn’t touch if there was no one to say, take a bit. Tozer, he never thinks of that; he’s always had the best o’ appetites; but as for me, if I get’s a cup o’ tea that’s all as I cares for. You’ll see as she’ll take my view, when she’s once been to the High Street. She’s her mother’s daughter, and Phoebe can’t abide that woman, no more than me.”
“Have they got many children?” said Phoebe. “I know there are two girls, but as I have never seen them—Are they as old as I am?” she asked, with a tremulous feeling at her heart. If there were girls in the shop in the High Street, with whom she would have to be on familiar terms, as her cousins and equals, Phoebe did not feel that she could put up with that.
“The eldest, Polly, is only twelve,” said Tozer; “but never you mind, my dear, for you shan’t be without company. There’s a deal of families with daughters like yourself. Your grandmother won’t say nothing against it; and as for me, I think there’s nought so cheery as young folks. You shall have a fire in the drawing-room, and as many tea-parties as you like. For the young men, I can’t say as there’s many, but girls is plenty, and as long as you’re content with that—”
Mrs. Tozer regarded him with withering contempt across the table.
“You’re clever ones, you men,” she said. “Families with daughters! Do you think the Greens and the Robbins is company for her? I dare say as you’ve heard your mother speak of Maria Pigeon, my dear? She married John Green the grocer, and very well to do and respectable they may be, but nobody but the likes of your grandfather would think of you and them making friends.”
“Indeed I don’t care for making friends,” said Phoebe, “you must remember that I came not for society, but to wait upon you, dear grandmamma. I don’t want young friends. At home I always go out with my mother; let me take walks with you, when you are able. I am glad Uncle Tom’s children are little. I don’t want company. My work—and the garden—and to sit with grandmamma, that is all I care for. I shall be as happy as the day is long,” said this martyr, smiling benignly over the aches in her heart.
Her grandparents looked at her with ever-growing pride. Was not this the ideal young woman, the girl of the storybooks, who cared about nothing but her duty?
“That’s very nice of you, my dear; but you ain’t going to hide yourself up in a corner,” said Tozer. And, “Never fear, I’ll take her wherever it’s fit for her to go to,” his wife added, looking at her with pride. Phoebe felt, in addition to all the rest, that she was to be made a show of to all the connection, as a specimen of what the Tozer blood could come to, and she did not even feel sure that something of the same feeling had not been in her mother’s bosom when she fitted her out so perfectly. Phoebe Tozer had left contemporaries and rivals in Carlingford, and the thought of dazzling and surpassing them in her offspring as in her good fortune had still some sweetness for her mind. “Mamma meant it too!” Phoebe junior said to herself with a sigh. Unfortunately for her, she did everybody
