Dolly made the journey up to town in a state between relief and disgust. Rupert did take a world of trouble off her hands; but she said to herself that she did not want it taken off. And she certainly did not want this long-legged fellow attending upon them everywhere. It was better to have him than St. Leger; that was all you could say.
The days in London were few and busy. Mr. Copley during this interval was very affectionate, very kind and attentive; in fact, so attentive to supplying or providing against every possible want that he found little time to be with his family. He and Rupert were perpetually flying out and in, ordering this and searching for that; a sort of joyous bustle seemed to be the order of the day; for he carried it on gleefully.
"Why, Mr. Copley," his wife said, when he brought her an elegant little leather case for holding the tinctures and medicines in which she indulged, "I thought we must economise so hard? I thought you had no money now-a-days? How is this, and what does it mean? this case must have cost a pound."
"You are worth more than a pound, my dear," Mr. Copley said with a sort of semi-earnestness.
"But I thought you were so poor all of a sudden?"
"We are going to turn a new leaf, and live frugally; so you see, on the strength of that, we can afford to be extravagant now and then."
"That seems to me a very doubtful way, Mr. Copley," said his wife, shaking her head.
"Don't be doubtful, my dear. Whatever else you do, go straight to your mark, and don't be doubtful. Humming and hawing never get on with anything. Care killed a cat, my dear."
"It has almost killed me," said poor Mrs. Copley. "Are we out of need of care, Frank?"
"You are. I'll take all the care for the family. My dear, we are going in for play, and Venice."