'Oh, catch me living with that woman!' she cried passionately.' She's no better than a thief, a common thief. I don't care who hears me. And made up! Oh, its shocking! It seems to me there's nothing I can talk about at home now—whether it's getting old—or teeth—or hair—I'm always supposed to be "passing remarks." And I wouldn't mind if it was my Hastings cousins I had to live with. But they can't have me any more, and now I'm at Wakely with the Astons.'
'The Aston's?' David echoed. Like most people of small training and intelligence, Lucy instinctively supposed that whatever was familiar to her was familiar to other people.
'Oh, don't you know? It's father's sister who married a mill-overseer at Wakely. And they're very kind to me. Only they're dreadfully pious too—not like father—I don't mean that. And, you see—it's Robert!'
'Who's Robert?' asked David amused by her blush, and admiring the trim lightness of her figure and walk.
'Robert's the eldest son. He's a reedmaker. He's got enough to marry on—at least he thinks so.'
'And he wants to marry you?'
She nodded. Then she looked at him, laughing, her naturally bright eyes sparkling through the tears still wet in them.
'Father's a Baptist, you know—that's bad enough—but Robert's a Particular Baptist. I asked him what it meant once when he was pestering me to marry him. "Well, you see," he said, "a man must show that his heart's changed—we don't take in everybody like—we want to be sure they're real converted." I don't believe it does mean that—father says it doesn't. Anyway I asked him whether if I married him he'd want me to be a Particular Baptist too. And he said, very slow and solemn, that of course he should look for religious fellowship in his wife, but that he didn't want to hurry me. I laughed till I cried at the thought of me going to that hideous chapel of his, dressed like his married sister. But sometimes, I declare, I think he'll make me do what he wants—he's got a way with him. He sticks to a thing as tight as wax, and I don't care what becomes of me sometimes.'
She pouted despondently, but her quick eye stole to her companion's face.
'Oh, no, you won't marry Robert, Miss Lucy,' said David cheerfully. 'You've had a will of your own ever since I've known you. But what are you at home for now?'