He had been searching with his eyes for Phœbe, and not seeing her or Fred Cornwall, had made a movement to leave his master.
"We have to thank you," said Aunt Leth to Miser Farebrother, "for a very pleasant evening."
"Don't speak of it. We ought to see more of each other; you ought to have been here oftener. One's flesh and blood—we are almost that, are we not, sister-in-law?—should not desert one as you have deserted me."
"Indeed! indeed!" stammered Aunt Leth, somewhat confounded by this reproach.
"Never mind, never mind," said Miser Farebrother, with a gentle air of resignation. "We must say nothing but kind things to one another. If you have deserted me, you have not deserted my dear child, who is always full of praises of you."
"We love her," said Aunt Leth, "as well as we love our own."
"It is very good of you. Is that your husband? My eyesight is shockingly weak. I'm breaking fast, I'm afraid."
Mr. Lethbridge came forward, and Miser Farebrother seized his hand and gave it a cordial grasp. The kind-hearted man could find nothing better to say than,
"I am very glad to see you, Mr. Farebrother."
"Not so glad to see me as I am to see you. It is quite like old times—quite like old times. How is the world using you? But I need not ask; I can see for myself. I am very pleased—very—very! You deserve it. I wish the world used me as well; but we can't all be so fortunate. When I was a young man, I used to hope that when I was as old as I am now I should be able to keep a carriage. Young hopes, brother-in-law—eh? Seldom realized, are they? I can hardly afford to keep a—a wheelbarrow—eh, Jeremiah?"