Mr. Greenmantle was again annoyed, and showed it by the knitting of his brow, and the increased stiffness of his head and shoulders. The truth may as well be told. Emily’s illness had prevailed with him and he too had yielded. When she had absolutely refused to look at her chicken-broth for three consecutive days her father’s heart had been stirred. For Mr. Greenmantle’s character will not have been adequately described unless it be explained that the stiffness lay rather in the neck and shoulders than in the organism by which his feelings were conducted. He was in truth very like Mr. Peppercorn, though he would have been infuriated had he been told so. When he found himself alone after his defeat—which took place at once when the chicken-broth had gone down untasted for the third time—he was ungainly and ill-natured to look at. But he went to work at once to make excuses for Philip Hughes, and ended by assuring himself that he was a manly honest sort of fellow, who was sure to do well in his profession; and ended by assuring himself that it would be very comfortable to have his married daughter and her husband living with him. He at once saw Philip, and explained to him that he had certainly done very wrong in coming up to his drawing-room without leave. “There is an etiquette in those things which no doubt you will learn as you grow older.” Philip thought that the etiquette wouldn’t much matter as soon as he had married his wife. And he was wise enough to do no more than beg Mr. Greenmantle’s pardon for the fault which he had committed. “But as I am informed by my daughter,” continued Mr. Greenmantle, “that her affections are irrevocably settled upon you,”—here Philip could only bow—“I am prepared to withdraw my opposition, which has only been entertained as long as I thought it necessary for my daughter’s happiness. There need be no words now,” he continued, seeing that Philip was about to speak, “but when I shall have made up my mind as to what it may be fitting that I shall do in regard to money, then I will see you again. In the meantime you’re welcome to come into my drawing-room when it may suit you to pay your respects to Miss Greenmantle.” It was speedily settled that the marriage should take place in February, and Mr. Greenmantle was now informed that Polly Peppercorn and Mr. Hollycombe were to be married in the same month!
He had resolved, however, after much consideration, that he would himself inform Dr. Freeborn that he had given way, and had now come for this purpose. There would be less of triumph to the enemy, and less of disgrace to himself, if he were to declare the truth. And there no longer existed any possibility of a permanent quarrel with the Doctor. The prolonged residence abroad had altogether gone to the winds. “I think I will just step over and tell the Doctor of this alteration in our plans.” This he had said to Emily, and Emily had thanked him and kissed him, and once again had called him “her own dear papa.” He had suffered greatly during the period of his embittered feelings, and now had his reward. For it is not to be supposed that when a man has swallowed a poker the evil results will fall only upon his companions. The process is painful also to himself. He cannot breathe in comfort so long as the poker is there.
“And so Emily too is to have her lover. I am delighted to hear it. Believe me she hasn’t chosen badly. Philip Hughes is an excellent young fellow. And so we shall have the double marriage coming after all.” Here the poker was very visible. “My wife will go and see her at once, and congratulate her; and so will I as soon as I have heard that she’s got herself properly dressed for drawing-room visitors. Of course I may congratulate Philip.”
“Yes, you may do that,” said Mr. Greenmantle very stiffly.
“All the town will know all about it before it goes to bed tonight. It is better so. There should never be a mystery about such matters. Goodbye, Greenmantle, I congratulate you with all my heart.”
VIII
Christmas-Day
“Now I’ll tell you what we’ll do,” said the Doctor to his wife a few days after the two marriages had been arranged in the manner thus described. It yet wanted ten days to Christmas, and it was known to all Plumplington that the Doctor intended to be more than ordinarily blithe during the present Christmas holidays. “We’ll have these young people to dinner on Christmas-day, and their fathers shall come with them.”
“Will that do, Doctor?” said his wife.
“Why should it not do?”
“I don’t think that Mr. Greenmantle will care about meeting Mr. Peppercorn.”
“If Mr. Peppercorn dines at my table,” said the Doctor with a certain amount of arrogance, “any gentleman in England may meet him. What! not meet a fellow townsman on Christmas-day and on such an occasion as this!”
“I don’t think he’ll like it,” said Mrs. Freeborn.
“Then he may lump it. You’ll see he’ll come. He’ll not like to refuse to bring Emily here especially, as she is to meet her betrothed. And the Peppercorns and Jack Hollycombe will be sure to come. Those sort of vagaries as to meeting this man and not that, in sitting next to one woman and objecting to another, don’t prevail on Christmas-day, thank God. They’ve met already at the Lord’s Supper, or ought to have met; and they surely can meet afterwards at the parson’s table. And we’ll have Harry Gresham to show that there is no ill-will. I hear that Harry is already making up to the Dean’s daughter at Barchester.”
“He won’t care whom he meets,” said Mrs. Freeborn. “He has got a position of
