“Oh, pray don’t! Phillis’s place is to obey orders, and not to prepare surprises. Surely I can direct her what I shall like her to prepare, myself.”
“You are now making a matter of temper of it. I shall say not a word. I am quite calm, but I feel I’d better go. If anything does make me feel irritable, it is to see.... Well, well, I will look in another time, when I hope we shall be in better tune. I’m sure I had not an idea!—Good-by; good-by!”
As soon as I heard the little gate slam, I had a hearty cry. Mr. Cheerlove used to speak of people making a storm in a saucer, and surely this had been one, if ever there was such a thing.
On first coming in, my intention had been to lie down and rest quietly till Phillis brought me a little arrow-root; but I had scarcely untied my bonnet-strings when Miss Burt came in. Had I had time to recover myself, I should not have been so weak as to let her upset me; but, as the matter stood, she had done so completely, and I felt utterly unable to resist shedding tears.
“Don’t come in, Phillis,” said I, hastily, as she opened the door; for I thought I should have some observations, silent ones at any rate, on my red eyes.
“Here’s Mr. Sidney,” said Phillis.
I looked up, quite ashamed. Kind Mr. Sidney it was, who had, like Miss Burt, seen me in church, but who had come to congratulate me in a very different manner.
“I am afraid you have done rather too much this morning,” said he, very kindly. “I am not at all surprised to see you rather overcome. It is a good way from this house to the church; and I dare say the donkey-chair shook you a good deal. I wish there were an easier one to be had. My aunt uses it sometimes, and says it shakes her to pieces. Well, but my dear Mrs. Cheerlove, this is a great step gained. I am sure we all have great reason to be thankful that it has pleased the Lord to restore you to us. You have a great deal of ground yet to gain, I can readily believe, before you are quite one of us; but still, every step in advance is a mercy.”