"Oh, I would not give way to those feelings, Joa," he returned, hastily. "In life one has to harden one's self to all sorts of things, and it is no use moping and brooding over troubles that cannot be altered. If Jemima wants to go out, perhaps we had better not wait any longer." And then he lighted his reading lamp, and unfolded his paper. In spite of the well-cooked chops, supper had certainly not been more festive than usual.
And then a strange fancy came to Thorold. How would it be with him if some younger, brighter face were to be opposite to him, evening after evening. Would not his home, humble as it was, be a very different place? He knew why he was happier in his chambers at Lincoln's Inn. To his reserved temperament, solitude was far preferable than uncongenial fellowship with this small human soul, this weary little pilgrim forever carrying her heavy pack of worries.
"Poor dear Joa," he said to himself, for his keen eyes had noticed the reddened eyelids. "Very likely she remembers that it is Tristram's birthday, and that he is thirty-eight to-day."
Jemima had cleared the table and vanished. He was still alone, and Rabat-la-Koum was curled up like a huge grey ball at his feet; the leading article was unusually clever, and absorbed him until a sudden fragrance pervaded the room, and there stood Joanna at his elbow with a steaming cup of coffee.
"I waited until Jemima went out, and then I made it myself. It is very strong coffee, Thorold, and it will do your head good." Joanna's voice was a little more cheerful as she said this, and the slight flush from her exertions made her look younger.
Thorold was quite touched; he put out his hand and patted his sister's arm caressingly. "How good of you to take so much trouble, my dear! I never thought of the coffee again. Sit down, Joa, and let us be comfortable. I have been wanting to tell you something all the evening."
"Have you, indeed?" and Joanna brightened. "Wait a moment. I want to wind some wool. I can hear you talk all the same. And yet I must mention one thing before you begin. The gas man called for his account, and you forgot to leave the cheque.''
"Did I? I was in a hurry. But I will write it before I go to bed."
"Thank you. And there is one other thing, Thorold. If Jemima goes at her month, as she threatens, will she not forfeit her wages? You are a lawyer, so you ought to know."
"I am quite sure Jemima means to do nothing of the kind," he returned, impatiently. "Look here, Joa, she is the best servant we have had yet, and I would rather raise her wages than part with her. Take my advice for once, praise her a little more and find fault with her a little less; and if you are wise you will leave her young man alone;" and then he drank his coffee, moodily. Joanna had quenched his attempt at conversation again. Joanna pondered Thorold's advice as she unravelled her skein of yarn; it was somewhat tangled, and as she pulled it with nervous jerks, the yarn snapped and the ball rolled from her hand.