WHAT PATRICIA WANTED
"REALLY, my dear, I don't see that it can be helped. If Robert says he cannot come on that particular day, I suppose he cannot. Men generally know their own business. You will have either to alter the day, or to do without him."
Mrs. Framley stood near the door, in the Manor hall, and she spoke in her deepest voice—a voice which Mrs. Miles privately declared had its origin in her shoes. She wore her magnificent furs; and she looked more than ever like a big brown bear on end. But she smiled good-humouredly as she spoke; while Patricia, on the other side of the solid oak table, seemed the reverse of good-humoured. A frown puckered her pretty brow; and the charming smile was conspicuously absent. When Patricia was "put out," she could be very much "out" indeed.
"You see, he is a busy man, not always with time at his own disposal; and he has to consider his Vicar. If I were you, I wouldn't mind. It can't be helped."
"I do mind, and it can be helped. If I want Rob, he ought to come. And I intend that he shall."
"I thought you said it was impossible."
"He says so. Ridiculous! Rob can always get his own way, if he chooses. People have told me so, again and again."
"Why don't you alter the day?"
"Because it's not convenient, and I don't choose. Rob has to make his plans fit in with mine. Some stupid parish tea! Anybody could see to it."
"When you are Rob's wife, you will find that a parish tea can't be put aside for the sake of a charade."