"Now you see," burst out Elizabeth afresh, "you see, Emma, what Jane thinks of Tom Musgrove—you must change your mind."
"No, indeed; her liking him can make no difference to me," replied Emma, quietly.
"Oh, Emma! I did not think you so conceited, to think of your setting up your opinion against Jane's, a married woman, and so much older and more experienced; I could not have expected it."
"I do not set up my opinion against her, I only differ in taste," said her sister meekly, being very anxious to be allowed to go to sleep.
"You are quite impracticable, and, I fear, very obstinate," returned Elizabeth, with a gravity which made Emma smile in spite of her weariness. Then followed another long silence, and she was dropping into a comfortable slumber, when she was startled by Elizabeth springing up, and exclaiming: "Oh! I quite forgot—what shall I do?"
"What is the matter?" enquired Emma, quite alarmed.
"Why, I forgot to tell Nanny to be sure and put the custards into the safe, for there's a hole in the corner of the larder, where the cat gets in, and she will be certain to eat them all before morning."
"Oh," said Emma, as her eyes again closed irresistibly, and whether or not her sister quitted her bed to go down and rectify her error, she could not tell, for she, at length, dropped fast asleep.
Emma spent the greater part of the next day in her father's room. It was much more agreeable to her than the drawing-room; and Elizabeth, with all her good qualities, was not equal to her as a nurse, and really loved society and conversation, or rather chit-chat, so much as to be very glad to believe her sister's assertion, that she took pleasure in attending on her father. Mr. Watson, though indolent and self-indulgent, was a scholar, and enjoyed the pursuits of literature when not attended by too much labour. Emma found, as he recovered, that there was much to be gained by intercourse with him: she read to him both in English and French, and only regretted that she could not also assist him in Latin or Greek. Hour after hour she had devoted to amusing him, and felt herself well repaid by the affection he manifested in return; and now that the society down stairs, of course, compelled Elizabeth to absent herself, she rejoiced that it made her presence doubly necessary. She could not like her sister-in-law—she saw so much of peevishness in Margaret's general manner as to expect the same would be manifested to her, and Robert had so pained and shocked her by their first tête-à-tête, that she never approached him without dread lest he should renew so painful a subject.
A proposal to remain with her father all the evening, instead of appearing at dinner was negatived. He would not permit her to do so, as it really was not necessary for his comfort, and he expected amusement from her description of the dinner-party after it was over.