"I propose," said Mrs. Lethbridge, "that we go into the open air. It is a most lovely evening."
They all rose, glad of the escape. Jeremiah pushed himself between Fred Cornwall and Phœbe, and walked by her side down the stairs. When they were in the open he said to her, "You have forgotten your bouquet. I will go and bring it to you. Shall I?"
"If you please," she answered, faintly. She could make no other reply.
His mother met him in the passage. "Miser Farebrother wishes to see you, Jeremiah. You can join Miss Phœbe afterward."
"All right," said Jeremiah; "I will. Look here, mother. Is that Cornwall fellow sticking up to Phœbe?"
"That is for you to find out, Jeremiah. If you are my son you are not to be easily beaten."
"Easily beaten!" he echoed, with malignant emphasis. "When my back's up, I generally let people know it. Did you notice how they behaved to me at the tea-table?"
"You paid them out for it, Jeremiah," said Mrs. Pamflett, exultingly. "I am proud of you."
"You shall have more reason by-and-by. Paid them out for it! Why, they didn't have a word to say for themselves! I just looked at them, and shut them up! As for Phœbe, let her look out; that's all I say—let her look out! Did you ever see a cat play with a mouse?"
"Often, Jeremiah."