Phœbe looked on like one in a dream, while the terms of the wager were arranged with playful precision. She did not know that dinner had been announced, till she found people moving, and in spite of her antipathy to Mr. Calthorp, she rejoiced to find him assigned to herself—dear, good Lucy must have done it to keep Robin to herself, and dear, good Lucy she shall be, in spite of the salmon, since in the progress down-stairs she has cleared the cloud from his brow.
It was done by a confiding caressing clasp on his arm, and the few words, ‘Now for old friends! How charming little Phœbe looks!’
How different were his massive brow and deep-set eyes without their usual load, and how sweet his gratified smile!
‘Where have you been, you Robin? If I had not passed you
in the Park, I should never have guessed there was such a bird in London. I began to change my mind, like Christiana—“I thought Robins were harmless and gentle birds, wont to hop about men’s doors, and feed on crumbs, and such-like harmless food.”’
‘And have you seen me eating worms?’
‘I’ve not seen you at all.’
‘I did not think you had leisure—I did not believe I should be welcome.’
‘The cruellest cut of all! positive irony—’
‘No, indeed! I am not so conceited as—’