“He would want you fast enough if Miss Grace—is that not her name?—were to marry and leave him to shift for himself,” was the somewhat matter-of-fact answer.
But Mattie shook her head at this with a faint smile:
“Grace will never marry. She would not leave Archie.”
“Oh, but that is nonsense, do you know?—sheer nonsense! Many girls talk like that, but they change their mind in the end. Why, the parson may marry himself. You don’t suppose a good looking fellow like that intends to be an old bachelor? And then what will Miss Grace do?”
“I don’t know. I am afraid she will miss him dreadfully.”
“Oh, but she will get over it all right. It does not do to make a fuss over that sort of thing. Sentimentality between brothers and sisters is all very well in its way, but it won’t hold against a wife’s or husband’s claims. I never had any myself, so I don’t know; but I find it precious lonely without them. That is why I have adopted my cousins. A man must care for some one.”
“Yes, indeed,” echoed Mattie, with a sigh.
“I am afraid your people do not use you very well, Miss Mattie,” he went on, with cheerful sympathy that was quite a cordial in its way. “You look a bit down this afternoon; a fellow would call it in the blues, and he would be thinking of a cigar and brandy-and-soda. What a pity women don’t smoke! it is no end soothing to the spirits!”
“We have got afternoon tea,” returned Mattie, beginning to smile at this. 313
“Well, why don’t you ring and order some?” he replied, quite seriously. “Do, please, Miss Mattie, if it will put a little heart into you. Why, I should like a cup myself uncommonly. There never was such a fellow for afternoon tea.” And then Mattie did ring the bell, and, Sir Harry having stirred the fire into a cheerful blaze, and the little brass kettle beginning to sing cheerily on its trivet, things soon looked more comfortable.