"Torquay would be delicious," said Cherry.
"And would that man come and live at the brewery?" said Augusta.
"Of course he would, if he pleased," said Martha.
"And bring Rachel Ray with him as his wife?" said Cherry.
"He'll never do that," said Mrs. Tappitt with energy.
"Never; never!" said Augusta,—with more energy.
In this way the large and influential feminine majority of the family at the brewery was brought round to look at one of the propositions made by Rowan without disfavour. It was not that that young man's sins had been in any degree forgiven, but that they all perceived, with female prudence, that it would be injudicious to ruin themselves because they hated him. And then to what lady living in a dingy brick house, close adjoining to the smoke and smells of beer-brewing, would not the idea of a marine villa at Torquay be delicious? None of the family, not even Mrs. Tappitt herself, had ever known what annual profit had accrued to Mr. T. as the reward of his life's work. But they had been required to live in a modest, homely way,—as though that annual profit had not been great. Under the altered circumstances, as now proposed, they would all know that papa had a thousand a year to spend;—and what might not be done at Torquay with a thousand a year? Before Mr. Tappitt came home for the evening,—which he did not do on that day till past ten, having been detained, by business, in the bar of the Dragon Inn,—they had all resolved that the combined ease and dignity of a thousand a year should be accepted.
Mr. Tappitt was still perturbed in spirit when he took himself to the marital chamber. What had been the nature of the business which had detained him at the bar of the Dragon he did not condescend to say, but it seemed to have been of a nature not well adapted to smooth his temper. Mrs. Tappitt perhaps guessed what that business had been; but if so, she said nothing of the subject in direct words. One little remark she did make, which may perhaps have had allusion to that business.
"Bah!" she exclaimed, as Mr. Tappitt came near her; "if you must smoke at all, I wish to goodness you'd smoke good tobacco."
"So I do," said Tappitt, turning round at her sharply. "It's best mixed bird's-eye. As if you could know the difference, indeed!"