“Grandmamma, I am afraid you have over-exerted yourself, coming downstairs to meet me,” she said, taking the old lady's hand, and drawing it within her arm. “Yes, I have grown; I am tall enough to be of some use; but you must not treat me as if I were a stranger. No, no; never mind my room. I am not tired; the journey is nothing. Let me take you back to your chair and make you comfortable. I feel myself quite at home already. The only odd thing is that I have never been here before.”
“Ah, my dear, your mother thought too much of you to send you to the likes of us; that's the secret of it. She was always fond of fine folks, was my Phœbe; and I don't blame her, bringing you up quite the lady as she's done.”
“You must not find fault with mamma,” said Phœbe, smiling. “What a nice cozy room! This is the dining-room, I suppose; and here is your cushion, and your footstool at this nice window. How pleasant it is, with the crocuses in all the borders already! I am not at all tired; but I am sure it must be tea-time, and I should so like a cup of tea.”
“We thought,” said Mrs. Tozer, “as perhaps you mightn't be used to tea at this time of day.”
“Oh, it is the right time; it is the fashionable hour,” said Phœbe; “everybody has tea at five. I will run upstairs first, and take off my hat, and make myself tidy. Jane—is that her name?—don't trouble, grandmamma; Jane will show me the way.”
“Well?” said Mr. Tozer to Mrs. Tozer, as Phœbe disappeared. The two old people looked at each other with a little awe; but she, as was her nature, took the most depressing view. She shook her head.
“She is a deal too fine for us, Tozer,” she said. “She'll never make herself 'appy in our quiet way. Phœbe's been and brought her up quite the lady. It ain't as her dress is much matter. I'd have given her a silk myself, and never thought of it twice; and something lively like for a young person, 'stead of that gray stuff, as her mother might wear. But all the same, she ain't one of our sort. She'll never make herself 'appy with you and me.”
“Well,” said Tozer, who was more cheerful, “she ain't proud, not a bit; and as for manners, you don't pay no more for manners. She came up and give me a kiss in the station, as affectionate as possible. All I can say for her is as she ain't proud.”
Mrs. Tozer shook her head; but even while she did so, pleasanter dreams stole into her soul.
“I hope I'll be well enough to get to chapel on Sunday,” she said, “just to see the folk's looks. The minister needn't expect much attention to his sermon. 'There's Phœbe Tozer's daughter!' they'll all be saying, and a-staring, and a-whispering. It ain't often as anything like her is seen in chapel, that's a fact,” said the old lady, warming into the exultation of natural pride.