“What Parson Tom engaged! Tragedy upon tragedy. There are two blighted beings then; the course of their true love, ruffled by this dreadful Chancery. And who’s the luckless she? This is a world of surprises. Tom was not such a bat as to look outside this house for a prettier face and a sweeter heart than he’ll find inside it.”
“I didn’t say Tom was engaged,” said Lucy.
“I know you didn’t. Well, if it isn’t I’ll not venture another guess. Still, I’m a daughter of Eve after all, and I confess I hope Mr. Pinder is not going to throw himself away on some good-looking empty-head of a girl—a calf-love. You said it was a malady of standing, contracted young, if I remember.”
“Yes, she’s good-looking,” said Lucy.
“And empty-headed?”
“You wouldn’t like me to say so.”
“I! What have my likes to do with it? It’s no concern of mine. Really, you stimulate my curiosity. Is it anyone I know? Does she go to our chapel?”
“Yes, she goes to Aenon,” said Lucy. “But there, I’ll tell you no more.”
“Oh! I can guess, and thank you for nothing. It’s that apprentice of Miss Baxter’s, the milliner. Now don’t deny it. I saw Mr. Pinder looking at her very much the last Sunday he honoured Aenon. The girl with the green gloves. The taste of some men—in dress I mean.”
“Have it your own way,” said Lucy, “you’ll find out someday, perhaps.”