Mr. Mayne did not add that his son had so bothered him for the last three weeks to run down to Hadleigh that he had acceded at last to his request, in the hope of enjoying a little peace.
“Draw it mild!” muttered Dick, who did not much admire this opening tirade; but Nan answered, with much dignity,—
“If people talk about us it is because of the novelty. They have never heard of gentle-people doing this sort of work before––”
“I should think not!” wrathfully from Mr. Mayne.
“Things were so bad with us that we should have all had to separate if Phillis had not planned this scheme; and then mother would have broken her heart; but now we are getting on famously. Our work gives satisfaction, we have plenty of orders; we do not forfeit people’s good opinions, for we have nothing but respect shown us, and––”
But here Mr. Mayne interrupted her flow of quiet eloquence somewhat rudely.
“Pack of nonsense!” he exclaimed, angrily. “I wonder at your mother,—I do indeed. I thought she had more sense. You have no right to outrage your friends in this way! it is treating us badly. What will your mother say, Dick? She will be dreadfully shocked. I am sorry for you, my boy,—I am indeed: but, under the circumstances––”
But what he was about to add was checked by a very singular proceeding on the part of his son; for Dick suddenly took Nan’s hand, and drew her forward.
“Don’t be sorry for me, father: I am the happiest fellow alive. Nan and I have come to an understanding at last, after all these years. Allow me to present to you the future Mrs. Richard Mayne.”