Their anticipations of their uncle were not very glowing; but as they had been warned by their mother, what passed between them respecting him was regarded as confidential. To Phœbe they said not a word.
On the Saturday morning Mr. Lethbridge, on his way to the bank, had a little day-dream. He and his wife and children had arrived at the railway station which led to Parksides, and had beguiled the journey by discussing how they should get to Miser Farebrother's house. Should they ride? Should they walk? Would Phœbe meet them? The question was settled for them immediately they alighted from the train. There was Phœbe, all smiles, and dressed most beautifully, even elegantly. And who should be by her side but her father, all smiles also, and elegantly dressed? He came forward in the pleasantest manner, and shook hands with every one of them, and Phœbe whispered to Uncle Leth, "It is all nonsense about father being a miser. It was only fun on his part. He has been saving up for me, and you, and Aunt Leth, and all of us. You have no idea how good and kind he is." There was actually a carriage waiting for them, and they all got into it, and rode in jubilant spirits to Parksides: a mansion fit for a nobleman. Gables, turrets, mullioned windows, walls covered with old ivy, grounds and gardens most tastefully laid out—everything perfect. Footmen about, and pretty maids neatly dressed, music playing somewhere. There was a sumptuous dinner provided for them: wonderful dishes, the best of wine. The day-dreamer made a speech, in which he dilated upon the happiness which Miser Farebrother had shed upon them, and how it was all the greater because of the delightful surprise which Phœbe's father had been for so many years preparing for them. Mr. Lethbridge's mental speeches were always marvels of oratory—not a word out of place, the turns most felicitous—and this speech at Miser Farebrother's dinner-table was even happier than usual. Then Miser Farebrother responded, and came out in a light so unexpected and agreeable that the place rang with cheers, and the music struck up "For he's a jolly good fellow," in which they all joined at the top of their voices. When the feast was ended Miser Farebrother asked him to step into his private room, and there, over a bottle of rare old port, he produced his will, which he read to the dreamer, and in which every member of the dreamer's family was handsomely provided for. He would not listen to the dreamer's expressions of gratitude. "Not a word: not a word," he said. "It has been a whim of mine to allow you to suppose I was mean and miserly and cruel, when all the time I have been overflowing with the milk of human kindness. Now we are all going to live happily together." Then they joined the young people in the grounds, where there was a marquee erected for the guests to dance in. There was quite a gathering; numbers of ladies and gentlemen had been invited, and among them Fred Cornwall, who had returned from his holiday trip. The young lawyer was dancing now with Fanny, and Miser Farebrother said: "I shouldn't wonder if that was to be a match. When it is arranged, look out for a splendid wedding present from me;" and Fanny coming up, the miser pinched her cheek, and said something which made her blush. It was altogether a most exhilarating entertainment, and the union of the relations most harmonious. Of course it was a lovely night, and as the dreamer arrived at the bank, he said to himself, "I have passed the pleasantest day in my remembrance."
While he was at his desk a conversation took place at home between Fanny and her mother respecting Fred Cornwall. He had called upon the Lethbridges on the previous evening, and although he was full of agreeable chat, he seemed disappointed at not finding Phœbe at her aunt's house. As he had said in his last letter to Fanny, he had brought presents home for all of them, and when Fanny twitted him privately with having nothing for Phœbe, he answered,
"Oh, yes, I have; but I must give them to her personally."
"To-morrow will be a capital time to give her a present," said Fanny.
"Is she coming here to-morrow?" asked Fred, eagerly.
"No," replied Fanny; "we are all going to her at Parksides. It is her birthday."
"She did not leave me an invitation, I suppose?" said Fred.
"No," said Fanny; "but if I were a young gentleman I shouldn't wait for one."
"Wouldn't you?"