“You saw Jack off, poor fellow?”
“Yes, mother,” I answered; “I saw Jack and Hetty off.”
“Oh, Hetty,” repeated my mother, with the faintest perceptible toss of her head. She had been very good about Hetty at first, but to have her coupled with Jack in this cool and easy manner gave her something of a shock.
“Mother,” I said with enthusiasm, “Jack had no right to marry any girl secretly, but as he did so we cannot be too thankful that he has taken this sweet little creature. She is as good as gold, mother, and as innocent as a little flower, and she thinks Jack perfection.”
“My dear,” said my mother, “that’s the right way; that’s as it should be. Though every one, I fear,” she added with a sigh, “cannot live up to it.”
“Hetty will,” I said quickly, for I did not want my mother to have time to make unhappy comparisons even in her heart.
“She has got an excellent husband,” proceeded my mother. “Rose, I did not know there was half as much in Jack as I find there is. He surprised me wonderfully during his illness; he really is a very fine fellow.”
I was silent.
“It was a great comfort to be alone with him,” proceeded my mother; “I got really to know my boy at last. Yes, his wife is a lucky woman. I trust she will prove worthy of him.” This time I was spared making any further remarks, for my father’s latch-key was heard in the front-door. The next moment he and George entered the little drawing-room together. “Bitterly cold night,” said my father, walking up to the fire, and monopolising the whole of it. “A sharp frost has set in already. Ha! is that you, Rosamund? Home again? How do you do? My dear,” turning to his wife, “did you register the thermometer as I told you to do this afternoon?”
“Yes, George. There were five degrees of frost then.”