Laura's face positively beamed when she bid farewell to her aunt.
"Mind you come and see me," she insisted hospitably, and a little patronisingly, "I shall enjoy it!" She kissed Meg hurriedly, but clung a moment to Kate. Kate's face was wet as the two parted.
So they drove off in a shower of rice, and Aunt Russelthorpe stood waving her handkerchief till they were out of sight. She had never felt more kindly towards her nieces; and they, who had come to her as children, and left as women, were glad enough to go. Surely there was something a little tragic about the extreme cheerfulness of that wedding; but no one thought it so, except perhaps their father, who said with a sigh:—
"One wants the mother on these occasions". And when the last carriage had departed and the last guest gone Mrs. Russelthorpe drew a long breath of satisfaction as she reflected again that she certainly had "done well for those girls".
She expressed as much to her brother, while they lingered together in the great drawing-room before dinner. (Mr. Deane was the only member of the family who ever beguiled Mrs. Russelthorpe's restless spirit into dawdling.)
He sighed rather heavily.
"I am sure I don't understand how it is," he said, "but I seem to know very little of them. Laura has always been so reserved, and Kate so cold; and yet I am very fond of my children, and Meg is fond of me. I won't have her marrying,—do you hear, sis? I can't spare poor little Meg, and I really couldn't stand another son-in-law."
"Margaret is neither poor nor little. I cannot imagine why you always call her by baby names," said Mrs. Russelthorpe, with a hard ring in her voice, which made him look up in surprise.
"Parental foolishness, I suppose," he said. "I can't imagine why you should mind if I do." And Mrs. Russelthorpe bit her lip, and repented of her ebullition of impatience.
Apparently her words had given him food for thought; for after a few minutes' pause he said gravely:—