"You be hanged, Tom, with your secret!" said his mother, "and do not keep Pen from her party."
Tom Pynsent dragged Miss Wycherly into the large bay-window, in spite of opposition.
"I don't understand ladies' ways just yet, Pen, but I am ordered to say these words from my little wife, 'Be firm;' and her sister desired me to say, 'All things must end well, if patient.' Now the devil a bit can I make out any meaning from either sentence, can you?"
"Yes, I understand, Tom; and tell them this evening for answer, 'Amen.'"
"You are all a parcel of riddles, Pen; what has 'amen' to do with your affairs. I say, Pen, what's all this with Spottiswoode?"
Miss Wycherly tried to answer her cousin's question lightly, but she burst into tears.
"Oh, ho, that's it, Pen, is it?" Tom Pynsent pronounced the words slowly, as if awakened to some new idea gradually. "All must end well, be firm, and amen. I see something now, by Jove."
His cousin made no reply, but the tears coursed down her cheeks. Tom Pynsent was sorry for her, and he put his arm round her waist, to suit the action to the word.
"Never mind, Pen; if you've quarrelled, touch your swain up with a bit of sugarcandy as you go to Shrewsbury. Pitch it in smoothly, Pen, and Spottiswoode will turn like the sunflower. Don't cry, cousin Pen, it makes me dismal—d—n it, don't cry!"
Mrs. Pynsent underwent considerable anxiety during the tête-à-tête, but, when her son became tender, her interference became imperative.