“I approve of my little girl enjoying herself,” said the old man. “Bring some more muffins, John; there’s plenty in the house, I hope. I know why you won’t take that piece, Miss Mildmay, because it is the last in the plate, and you think you will never be married.” He accompanied this with a tremendous tinkle of a laugh, as if it were the greatest joke in the world.
Miss Mildmay waved her hand with dignity, putting aside the foolish jest, and also putting aside the new dish of muffins, which that dignity would not permit her to touch.
“The question is,” she said, “not my marriage, which does not concern you, Mr. Tredgold, but dear Stella’s, which does.”
“Mr. Tredgold is so fond of his joke,” Mrs. Shanks said.
“Yes, I’m fond of my joke, ain’t I? I’m a funny man. Many of the ladies call me so. Lord! I like other people to have their fun too. Stella’s welcome to hers, as long as she likes. She’s a kitten, she is; she goes on playin’ and springin’ as long as anybody will fling a bit of string at her. But she’s well in hand all the same. She knows, as you say, just how far to go.”
“Then she has your approval, we must all presume,” said Miss Mildmay, rising from her chair, though Mrs. Shanks had not half finished her tea.
“Oh, she’s free to have her fun,” Mr. Tredgold said.
What did it mean, her fun? This question was fully discussed between the two ladies in the midge. Marriage is no fun, if it comes to that, they both agreed, and the phrase was very ambiguous; but still, no man in his senses, even Mr. Tredgold, could allow his young daughter to make herself so conspicuous if he did not mean to consent in the end.
“I am very glad to hear, Stella, that it is all right about your marriage,” Mrs. Shanks said next time she met the girls. “Your papa would not say anything very definite; but still, he knows all about it, and you are to take your own way, as he says.”
“Did he say I was to have my own way?” said Stella, in a flush of pleasure.