“Well! I reckon I should have known it,” said Rhoda, in a rather hard tone. “I suppose that is what all men are like. But I did think he was true—I did!”
“I never did,” responded Phoebe.
“Well!” sighed Rhoda again. “Let it pass. Perhaps Mrs Dorothy is right—’tis best to trust none of them.”
“I don’t think Mrs Dorothy said that,” replied Phoebe, heaving a long sigh, as she sat up and pushed back her ruffled hair. “I do hope I wasn’t rude to Mother.”
“Nothing she’ll care about,” said Rhoda. “I wondered he did not come, Phoebe.”
“So did I, and I told him as much. But—Rhoda, I think perhaps we shall forgive him sooner if we don’t talk about it.”
“Ah! I have not come to forgiving yet,” was Rhoda’s answer. “Perhaps I shall some time. Well! I shall be an old maid now, Phoebe, like Mrs Dorothy, I suppose you’ll be the one to marry.”
“Thank you, I’d rather not!” said Phoebe, quickly. “I am not sure I should like it at all; and I am quite sure I don’t want to be married for my money, or for what people expect me to have.”
“Oh, there’s nothing else in this world!” answered Rhoda, with an air of immense experience. “Don’t you expect it. Every man you come across is an avaricious, designing creature. Oh dear! ’tis a weary weary world, and ’tis no good living!”
“Yes, Rhoda dear, there is one good in living, and ’tis always left to us, whatever we may lose,” said Phoebe, earnestly. “Don’t you remember what the Lord Jesus said to His disciples—‘My meat is to do the will of Him that sent Me?’ There is always that, Rhoda.”