Alfred Strickland was not the only one who had chosen the breakfast room as being the least likely to be interrupted by visitors. Julia had persuaded Miss Tremlow at last to come down stairs, and was even now advancing with the invalid on her arm to invade his fancied peace and quietness. As their voices sounded at the door, Alfred turned in dismay, and with no little disgust saw the two approach the fire near which he had made himself so comfortable, and as he thought secure from all invaders.
"We scarcely expected to find anyone here," Julia said, "but you will not interfere with my patient, being too lazy to move."
Alfred took the hint, and remained quiet, watching Julia as she first wheeled a chair nearer the fire, then placed some soft cushions, and a footstool and small table in readiness, all so nicely, and without the least exertion or trouble to the invalid, who seemed a mere puppet swayed about at the other's will; and he could not help thinking what a nice wife she would make.
"I don't mind having a cushion too, Julia," said he, "if you have one to spare."
"A cushion, you lazy creature. I've half a mind to throw it at your head. The idea of my waiting on you!"
"Thank you," replied Alfred, inwardly thinking what a vile temper she had, and how foolish it was to form hasty opinions.
"You will be paid out some day," said Julia. "I shall live to see you a perfect martyr to your wife's whims and fancies."
"God forbid that I should ever be so foolish as to marry at all, much less an invalid wife—of all things the most detestable."
"Well I will ask Goody Grey next time I see her what she prophecies."
"My dear," exclaimed Miss Tremlow, "pray do not mention that name; it sets me all of a tremble. I have not forgotten that dreadful day, and how the horses ran when she struck them. Have you, Mr. Strickland?"