“Don’t call people horrid because they don’t think the same as we do, Cynthy.”
“Well, but it is horrid. Papa says it’s dreadful, the opposition that is in the town. I heard him say to mamma yesterday that he couldn’t understand the people a bit, and that though he had now come to settle down amongst them for good, only when we go to town for the season, everybody seemed so independent, and they were all in opposition to him.”
“Yes, he was talking to Mr Paulby about it at dinner on Tuesday.”
“Papa is going to improve everything, he says. The place must have been terribly neglected by Mr Paulby. Oh, what a funny little man he is!”
“I think him very nice and genuine,” said Julia, quietly.
“But you mustn’t fall in love with him, Ju. He’s too old. But I say, what was the real reason of our being away from Lawford so much?”
“Money matters,” said her sister. “Papa got to be very much behindhand through Frank and Cyril.”
“Oh, I wish I were a man!” cried Cynthia, with her pretty fair young face flushing. “How I would have whipped those two fellows and made good boys of them! They’ve half broken poor mamma’s heart.”
“I’m afraid papa indulged them too much,” said Julia, quietly, and the two girls walked on for some little distance in silence, enjoying the briskness of the morning air.
“Now where are we going?” cried Cynthia suddenly. “Oh, I know. Down that lane leads to the ford, where the wheelwright’s is. Let’s go and see Polly Morrison.”