“What income have you, my little—hem—Mr. Webb, I mean.”
“Why, sir, we have about six hundred dollars a year. Now I think that sum, with my wife’s economy—and I have no expensive habits”—
“No, I’ll be sworn that your clothes won’t cost you much—nay,” said he, on seeing the colour fly into Mr. Webb’s face, “let me have my joke, and I’ll make you amends. In the first place, I will manage your wife, so that she shall come into your plans. Winny always liked to have her own way; and, as I helped to spoil her, when young, it is but fair that I should endeavour to set things a little square now. And, to repay you for bearing so well with an old man’s humour—which, considering how little there is of you—nay, my boy—Mr. Webb, I mean, don’t look so angry; I was only going to observe, that I might as well give you, in my lifetime, what I should certainly leave you at my death. I mean a little estate I have, called Oak Valley. It is just the very thing for two such little—I mean two such agreeable young people.”
“I am much obliged to you for your kindness, sir, but it will be a useless present; you forget your niece has a strong aversion to the country.”
“What, Winny? Have I not told you to let me manage her; hush, there she comes. I hope she has left the little doll—baby I mean—behind; two I can stand, now that I am used to it, but a third would set me going again. Well, Winny, your husband is not so much vexed at my laughter as you are. I think him a good, pleasant tempered little—fellow. In short, Winny, I begin to like him, he bears a joke so well. Now, a joke to me is a great thing; and I shall be tempted, now that I find you in the city, to remain here a year or two, and pitch my tent near you. If you lived in the country I should not be able to enjoy your society, as I never go there. But here, in the city, I could see you very often; and I know two or three old fellows like myself, who would often come with me to pay you an evening visit. You will soon get used to my jokes, eh, Mr. Webb. You will not mind my laughing, Winny, when it comes to be a daily thing?”
Mrs. Webb was struck dumb. What! to undergo the same torture daily? To see her sensitive husband daily, hourly, exposed to such coarse insults as he had been obliged to submit to during this day?—and before strangers too, to be the butt of vulgar and unfeeling people?—It was too much—nothing on earth could compensate for such an evil. She cast her eye towards her husband, not doubting but that he was feeling precisely as she did; but his back was towards her, and she could not learn how this communication affected him. It would not do—that she knew at once; she saw nothing but misery in having her uncle near them, and she therefore determined to make an effort to prevent the threatened evil.
“My dear uncle,” said she, with much embarrassment, for she knew that her husband was likewise interested in what she was saying,—“you would no doubt be very kind to us, if we lived together in the city, which, on many accounts, I should prefer to the country; but just before you came in Mr. Webb had been expressing a strong desire to go in the country—and—and—you know you, yourself, recommended our going—you advised me to it, you know.”
“Yes, Winny, I told you that you had better send the little man—I mean your little husband—in short, Winny, where is the use of your reddening up to your temples every time I make a mistake? You must get used to it if I live near you. I must call your husband little, while I am near him, and see that he is small. At my time of life people want indoor amusement, and you three here, would be a great—no, a little help, to wile away an hour or two in a rainy evening.”
This settled the matter with poor Mrs. Webb; not for worlds would she put herself in the way of such an evil; she therefore, with much pretended humility, disclaimed all right to decide on the question of living in the town or country; she said that, like a prudent wife, she meant to give up her own wishes to please her husband—that she was certain of its being better for him and the child to be in pure air, and now all that she should ask for this full compliance with his wishes was, that she should have the privilege of naming their little girl.
“That is but fair, Winny,” said her uncle, “you have certainly the right of naming little tiny as you choose. But stop—let me see—let me give the child a name; I will stand godfather to it, and, what is better, I will act as a godfather should. I will settle a thousand dollars a year on her, and will give you a very pretty little farm—my Oak Valley farm. Winny, you remember that farm.”