“Forgive me, dear Phœbe; I did not mean to use that odious word, ‘Miss.’”
And then the two girls kissed each other, and Amy handed Paul’s letter to Miss Tallant without more ado.
“By Jove!” said Richard Tallant to himself, “that sister of mine is a perfect fool. The bailiff’s daughter is fairly master of her; and, egad, I don’t wonder at it.”
“This is indeed dreadful. Your brother has certainly been indefatigable. Richard the associate of gamblers and the loosest men in town, and sanctioning a plot to ruin Mr. Hammerton! This truly is sad news,” said Miss Tallant, reading Paul’s letter, and commenting upon it as she read.
“Yes, by Jove!” said Mr. Richard Tallant, dropping the remains of his cigar, and crushing it under his heel. “So-ho, Master Sneak! I’ll be even with you, my fine fellow. A devilish nice thing to be tracked about by a junior clerk, set on by his sister, the daughter of my father’s bailiff. We’ll see about this. Shall I play the eaves-dropper any longer?”
“And what have you said in reply?” Phœbe asked, folding the letter, and returning it to Amy.
“I have told Paul he must warn Mr. Hammerton in some way; that he must take means to let him know that he is being duped.”
“You are putting too much on the boy’s shoulders, I think,” said Phœbe.
“Oh! I wish I were a man for one month—just for a month, Phœbe,” said Miss Somerton, starting from her seat, her eyes sparkling, and her little mouth pursed up. “But, alas! I am only a woman, and a vain, weak, silly creature, I fear,” she continued, re-seating herself and sighing.
“Weak and silly!” said Phœbe, quietly. “Why weak and silly?” Then dropping her voice and putting her arm round Amy’s waist, she asked: “Do I know why you call yourself weak and silly?”