“Like me! I don’t think he ever saw me.”
“Never mind, never mind, mother; they are not a den of robbers. They cannot do me any harm. And I shall find Harry,” Lydia said.
CHAPTER VI.
THE OPINION OF THE FAMILY.
THE Joscelyns were much excited and disturbed by all this “to do” about Liddy, which the sisters-in-law thought intolerable, and which, as has been already related, moved even Joan to some sensation of displeasure, notwithstanding the gratified sense of family pride which she experienced as a Joscelyn in the recognition of her family, which, though late, was satisfactory. But Mrs. Will and Mrs. Tom had no such feeling. To them the sense of being left out was not less but rather more disagreeable because a little chit like Liddy had been made much of and received as the representative of her race. Neither of these ladies could bear to hear of it, and Will and Tom showed their feelings in indignant ridicule, scorning the thought that a little lass should be put in the foreground, and their own substantial claims as the heirs of the Joscelyn name disregarded. For what is a girl in a family? nothing; a mere accident; perhaps useful in a way as extending the connection, but directly of no sort of benefit at all. When they heard, however, that Lydia was going “abroad” their indignation burst all bounds. Where was the money to come from? The sons and the sons’ wives were as angry as if it came out of their own pockets. Mrs. Will even cried, and enumerated a whole list of things which were wanted to make her house comfortable. “I never have even a trip to the seaside,” she said, “and as for a piano where I’m to get one I can’t tell, and the children all growing up; and there isn’t a sideboard in the house, not like I was used to, and the poorest stock of linen! while your sister is gallivanting all over the world.” Mrs. Tom suggested that nothing but a surreptitious slice out of Uncle Henry’s property—which it was a sin and a shame to keep hanging on because of a runaway, who must be dead years ago or he would have come back on the hands of his family, no doubt about that—could have induced Ralph Joscelyn to consent to such a mad piece of expenditure. “That Pilgrim just plays into their hands,” she said; “your mother’s silly enough for anything, when it’s for Liddy, but your father’d never have done it without something to go upon.” The brothers were so moved by these arguments, and by their own sense of injustice, that they made a joint raid upon the paternal house to see what remonstrance would do. “I’ll tell you what it is, father, it’s time that money was divided,” said Will; “it would come in uncommon handy, I can tell you, in my house, with all my children growing up.” Tom had no children, but he was not less forcible in his representations. “We’re a laughing-stock to all the county,” he said, “hanging on waiting for Harry turning up. If Harry had been going to turn up he’d have done it long ago. There never was a good-for-nothing in a family but he came back.” Now the day of this visit was a day which Joan had chosen to come to the White House to hear “all about it,” and these words were spoken at the family table just after the early dinner, for which an additional chicken had been killed on account of the guests.
“Good for nothing!” said Joan, indignantly, “that’s what our Harry never was. You may say what you like of yourselves, but of him I’ll never stand such lying. He was as honourable a lad as ever stepped. He never asked a penny from one of you, nor from father either—that he got. So far from taking anything of yours with him, he left his own behind him. Poor lad! there’s his very clothes in his drawers. It must have cost him a mint of money to get more to put in their place. I’ve often thought of that. If it’s just to put mother out, which is all you’ll do, you may as well try some other subject than Harry. Mother, don’t you take on. He’s no more dead than I am. He’ll come home some fine day to take up his property—if you don’t let them put you into your grave first.”
Mrs. Joscelyn’s hands had crept together in a nervous clasp. She looked pitifully from one to another. “Boys,” she said, in her soft voice, to the threatening men who looked older and infinitely harder than she, “I hope you’ll have a little patience. If I had the money, oh! how gladly I would give it you! It is hard, too, when you have need of it. I say nothing against that.”
“Need of it! I should think we had need of it,” said Will. “As for giving it if you had it, that’s easy speaking; and there are plenty that promise what they haven’t, and think no more of it when they have. What’s this we hear of Liddy going abroad? I should say that would cost a pretty penny. My wife and me, we can’t take our family so much as for a fortnight to the sea-side.”
“And what business is it of your wife’s and yours where Liddy goes?” said Joan, instantly throwing her shield over her own side. “You’ll not get Liddy’s money, you may be sure of that, to take you to the sea-side.”
“Oh, children!” cried Mrs. Joscelyn, clasping her hands.
“Well, I must say it’s more reasonable that a family of children should have a change, than that a bit of a lass like Liddy should go picking up foreign manners and ruining her character—not that I am speaking for myself——” Tom interposed. But he was interrupted by a cry from Joan, repeating his last words, “ruining her character!” and by an exclamation of pain from her mother. “Well,” cried Tom, “I say again, ruining her character. Is there any decent man about here that would have anything to do with a Frenchified wife?—not to say that a woman’s morals are always undermined in those foreign places. And Liddy’s flyaway enough, already——”