Such were the two girls at Popham Villa who were told on that evening that a new sister was to be brought home to them. When the next morning came they were of course still full of the subject. Sir Thomas was to go into London after breakfast, and he intended to walk over the bridge and catch an early train. He was as intent on being punctual to time as though he were bound to be all day in Court: and, fond as he might be of his daughters, had already enjoyed enough of the comforts of home to satisfy his taste. He did love his daughters;—but even with them he was not at his ease. The only society he could enjoy was that of his books or of his own thoughts, and the only human being whom he could endure to have long near him with equanimity was Joseph Stemm. He had risen at nine, as was his custom, and before ten he was bustling about with his hat and gloves. "Papa," said Clarissa, "when shall you be home again?"
"I can't name a day, my dear."
"Papa, do come soon."
"No doubt I shall come soon." There was a slight tone of anger in his voice as he answered the last entreaty, and he was evidently in a hurry with his hat and gloves.
"Papa," said Patience, "of course we shall see you again before you go to Southampton." The voice of the elder was quite different from that of the younger daughter; and Sir Thomas, though the tone and manner of the latter question was injurious to him, hardly dared to resent it. Yet they were not, as he thought, justified. It now wanted twelve days to the date of his intended journey, and not more than three or four times in his life had he been absent from home for twelve consecutive days.
"Yes, my dear," he said, "I shall be home before that."
"Because, papa, there are things to be thought of."
"What things?"
"Clarissa and I had better have a second bed in our room,—unless you object."
"You know I don't object. Have I ever objected to anything of the kind?" He now stood impatient, with his hat in his hand.