“I am obliged to you, ma’am,” said the butterman, who had a cloud on his face. “Not no nearer, thank you all the same. If I hadn’t thought you’d have done tea, I shouldn’t have come troubling Mr. Vincent, not so soon;” and Tozer turned a doubtful glance towards the minister, who stood longer at the window than he need have done. The widow’s experienced eye saw that some irritation had risen between her son and his friend and patron. Tozer was suspicious, and ready to take offence—Arthur, alas! in an excited and restless mood, only too ready to give it. His mother could read in his shoulders, as he stood at the window with his back to her, that impulse to throw off the yoke and resent the inquisition to which he was subject, which, all conscious as he was of not having carried out Tozer’s injunctions, seized upon the unfortunate Nonconformist. With a little tremulous rush, Mrs. Vincent put herself in the breach.
“I am sure so warm a friend as Mr. Tozer can never trouble any of my family at any time,” said the widow, with a little effusion. “I know too well how rare a thing real kindness is—and I am very glad you have come just now while I can be here,” she added, with a sensation of thankfulness perhaps not so complimentary to Tozer as it looked on the surface. “Arthur, dear, I think that will do now. You may put up the window and come back to your chair. You don’t smell the lamp, Mr. Tozer? and here is the little maid with the tea.”
Mrs. Vincent moved about the tray almost in a bustle when the girl had placed it on the table. She rearranged all the cups and moved everything on the table, while her son took up a gloomy position behind her on the hearthrug, and Tozer preserved an aspect of ominous civility on the other side of the table. She was glad that the little maid had to return two or three times with various forgotten adjuncts, though even then Mrs. Vincent’s instincts of good management prompted her to point out to the handmaiden the disadvantages of her thoughtlessness. “If you had but taken time to think what would be wanted, you would have saved yourself a great deal of trouble,” said the minister’s mother, with a tremble of expectation thrilling her frame, looking wistfully round to see whether anything more was wanted, or if, perhaps, another minute might be gained before the storm broke. She gave Arthur a look of entreaty as she called him forward to take his place at table. She knew that real kindness was not very often to be met with in this cross-grained world; and if people are conscious of having been kind, it is only natural they should expect gratitude! Such was the sentiment in her eyes as she turned round and fixed them upon her son. “Tea is ready, Arthur,” said the widow, in a tone of secret supplication. And Arthur understood his mother, and was less and less inclined to conciliate as he came forward out of the darkness, where he might look sulky if he pleased, and sat down full in the light of the lamp, which smoked no longer. They were not a comfortable party. Mrs. Vincent felt it so necessary that she should talk and keep them separated, that she lost her usual self-command, and subjects failed her in her utmost need.
“Let me give you another cup of tea,” she said, as the butterman paused in the supernumerary meal which that excellent man was making; “I am so glad you happened to come this evening when I am taking a little leisure. I hope the congregation will not think me indifferent, Mr. Tozer. I am sure you and Mrs. Tozer will kindly explain to them how much I have been occupied. When Susan is well, I hope to make acquaintance with all my son’s people. Arthur, my dear boy, you are overtired, you don’t eat anything—and you made a very poor dinner. I wish you would advise him to take a little rest, Mr. Tozer. He minds his mother in most things, but not in this. It is vain for me to say anything to him about giving up work; but perhaps a little advice from you would have more effect. I spoke to Dr. Rider on the subject, and he says a little rest is all my son requires; but rest is exactly what he will never take. It was just the same with his dear father—and you are not strong enough, Arthur, to bear so much.”
“I daresay as you’re right, ma’am,” said Tozer; “if he was to take a little more exercise and walking about—most of us Salem folks wouldn’t mind a little less on Sundays, to have more of the minister at other times. I hope as there wasn’t
