Nothing could have been farther from Honora’s predilections than such gaieties, but Phœbe’s eyes were growing round with eagerness, and there would be unkindness in denying her the pleasure, as well as churlishness in disappointing Lucy and Owen, who had reckoned on her in so gratifying a manner. Without decidedly accepting or refusing, she let the talk go on.
‘Miss Fulmort,’ said Ratia, ‘I hope you are not too religious to dance.’
Much surprised, Phœbe made some reply in the negative.
‘Oh, I forgot, that’s not your sisters’ line; but I thought . . . ’ and she gave an expressive glance to indicate Miss Charlecote.
‘Oh, no,’ again said Phœbe, decidedly.
‘Yes, I understand. Never mind, I ought to have remembered; but when people are gone in, one is apt to forget whether they think “promiscuous dancing” immoral or praiseworthy. Well, you must know some of my brother’s constituents are alarmingly excellent—fat, suburban, and retired; and we have hatched a juvenile hay-making, where they may eat and flirt without detriment to decided piety; and when they go off, we dress for a second instalment for an evening party.’
To Phœbe it sounded like opening Paradise, and she listened anxiously for the decision; but nothing appeared certain except the morrow’s dinner, and that Lucilla was to come to spend the Sunday at Miss Charlecote’s; and this being fixed, the luncheon party broke up, with such pretty bright affection on Lucilla’s part, such merry coaxing of Honor, and such orders to Phœbe to ‘catch that Robin to-morrow,’ that there was no room left for the sense of disappointment that no rational word had passed.
‘Where?’ asked Owen, getting into the carriage.
‘Henry knows—the Royal Academy.’
‘Ha! no alteration in consequence of the invitation? no finery required? you must not carry Hiltonbury philosophy too far.’