“Oh!” exclaimed Fan, “Mrs. Whitcomb! It will be just magnificent! Only she shall not come unless you promise her—let me see—three vacations a year, to visit us.”
“A month at a time?”
“About that. We have the first claim. She can do everything and is a lovely lady beside. And she is pretty too.”
“That is certainly in her favor,” and he laughed mischievously. “Could we find this paragon?”
“She is at Oxford. If you were to invite me to go sleigh-riding, we might;” said Fan demurely.
“Fanny!” in mamma’s gentle tone.
“Miss Fanny, will you be kind enough to accompany me to Oxford to-morrow?”
“Thank you, Mr. Duncan, I shall be happy to;” and Fan made a sweeping curtsey.
They went off merrily in Mr. Fairlie’s dainty cutter, saw Mrs. Whitcomb, with whom Mr. Duncan was charmed. She promised to consider the matter.
We missed him ever so much when he was gone. Fan seemed odd and restless. Papa was much engrossed with parish work, there being a number of sick people, and at this season of the year the wants of the poor became much more numerous. Employment was duller in the winter and after the poorer class had used up their own subsistence, they became necessarily somewhat dependent upon their neighbors. So papa used to try and interest the richer ones in their behalf. The season had been a pretty severe one. Miss Churchill came over one morning and he asked her assistance.