Randal hoped to turn the conversation gracefully; but Saul was not to be caught, and left the room, saying, with a gleam of fun in his eye,—
“I can’t stop now; heroes can wait, pigs can’t.”
The girls laughed at this sudden descent from the sublime to the ridiculous, and Randal joined them, feeling his condescension had not been unobserved.
As if drawn by the merry sound Aunt Plumy appeared, and being established in the rocking-chair fell to talking as easily as if she had known her guests for years.
“Laugh away, young folks, that’s better for digestion than any of the messes people use. Are you troubled with dyspepsy, dear? You didn’t seem to take your vittles very hearty, so I mistrusted you was delicate,” she said, looking at Emily, whose pale cheeks and weary eyes told the story of late hours and a gay life.
“I haven’t eaten so much for years, I assure you, Mrs. Basset; but it was impossible to taste all your good things. I am not dyspeptic, thank you, but a little seedy and tired, for I’ve been working rather hard lately.”
“Be you a teacher? or have you a ‘perfessun,’ as they call a trade nowadays?” asked the old lady in a tone of kindly interest, which prevented a laugh at the idea of Emily’s being anything but a beauty and a belle. The others kept their countenances with difficulty, and she answered demurely,—
“I have no trade as yet, but I dare say I should be happier if I had.”
“Not a doubt on’t, my dear.”
“What would you recommend, ma’am?”