"How should they? How should they?" retorted Miser Farebrother. "It would be so unnatural, wouldn't it? so very unnatural; they being poor, as they say they are, and I being rich as they think I am! They do say they're poor, now, don't they?"
"No," said Phœbe, considering; "I never remember their saying so. But they have as much as ever they can do to get along nicely. I know that without being told."
"So have we all, more than ever we can do. I can't get along nicely. Everything goes wrong with me—everything; and everybody tries to cheat me. If I wasn't as sharp as a weasel we shouldn't have a roof over our heads. It's the cunning of your aunt and uncle that they don't complain. They say to themselves, 'That old miser, Farebrother'—they do call me an 'old miser,' don't they, eh?"—he asked, suddenly, breaking off.
"I never heard them, father."
"But they think it," said Miser Farebrother, looking at Phœbe slyly; "and that's worse—ever so much worse. With people who speak out, you know where you are; it's the quiet cunning ones you have to beware of. They say to themselves, 'That old miser Farebrother will see through us if we complain to his daughter. He'll think we want him to give us some of his money, and that wouldn't please him, he's so fond of it. It will be by far the best to let Phœbe tell him of her own accord, and work upon his feelings in an accidental way, and then perhaps he'll send us a pound or two.' Oh, I know these clever people—I know them well, and can read them through and through! I should like to back them for cunning against some very sharp persons."
"You do them a great injustice, father. They are the dearest people in all the wide world——"
"Of course they are—of course they are," said Miser Farebrother, with a dry laugh. "They have been successful in making you believe it, at all events. That proves their cunning; it's part of their plan."
"It is not," said Phœbe, warmly; "they have no plan of the kind, and as to saying that they have led me on to speak to you about their troubles, and work upon your feelings, you couldn't imagine anything farther from the truth."
"Their troubles, eh!—they let you know they have troubles?"
"If you mean that they wish to get me to talk about them to you, no, father; they haven't let me know in that way. I can see them myself, without being told; and no one can help loving Aunt Leth for her patience and cleverness. Upon my word, it's perfectly wonderful how she manages upon the salary Uncle Leth gets from the bank. Now, father, you know that you yourself have led me on to speak of this." (When Phœbe was excited she emphasized a great many words, so that there should be no possibility of her meaning being mistaken.) "I didn't commence it; you did."