“Very well, papa,” said Frederica: but she by no means understood what her father meant, nor did it matter much that she did not.
The girls saw the wedding after all. They went to the church in the early morning, and saw madame in her fine dress and veil, and her bridesmaids, who were much better suited to the office than they would have been. Madame did not see them. They kept out of sight, and watched the ceremony with great interest, rather pitying the good-natured-looking bridegroom, and exchanging serious doubts as to his chances of good times in madame’s hands. The usual carriages drawn by white horses awaited them at the door; and as they watched them driving away, Tessie said,—
“There! she has really gone at last. I have been afraid all along that Mr Precoe would repent, or that somebody would do something to put a stop to it, and that we should have Prickly Polly back again. I should like to dance and sing for thankfulness.”
But Frederica had no thought of dancing and singing.
“There is always, some drawback,” said she gravely. “If everything does not go on well in the house,—dinners, and servants, and all that,—papa will not be pleased.”
“Oh, well! Why should they not go on well? You are so sensible, you know,” said Tessie, laughing. “You are equal to Mrs Ascot, surely.”
“I mean to be good, and try to do everything right, and then all will go well. That is what Miss Robina said to me—at least, she said I must always try to do right, whatever happened. If one could always know what is right!”
Tessie laughed.
“I wonder if it was right for us to come and see the last of Madame Ascot, after what papa said.”
“Oh! our coming in this way was quite different. We were not guests, and she did not see us. And after the first moment I daresay papa did not think about it.”