“Mr. Style will write a livelier sermon for it, I’ll wager my thimble, after he has slept upon the savor of our conversation,” said Emilie, as she gave him her hand at parting, and turned gayly round to bid Mrs. Tower good night.
“Come again, dears, every one of you,” said Mrs. Tower, as she smiled on the youthful group, “come every day and enliven us with the life of such glad spirits. Mr. Style would lead a most monotonous life indeed if I were all the company he could have.”
“You, indeed, my dearest Mrs. Tower,” replied Emilie. “That man is verily avaricious who covets better or more charming society than our most delightful hostess of this evening, to say nothing of the ice creams and etceteras! Yes, worthy of stripes is he, whether clergyman or layman!”
And Emilie finished her speech with a quick glance at the young minister, and her own peculiarly rich and musical shout of mirth, and tripped lightly down the terrace and across the wide and shaded street to her own home.
As the other young ladies of the party had farther to go, Mr. Style took them all under his protection, rendering particular assistance to Miss Charlotte, who complained of excessive weariness and lassitude. Beside, being occasionally afflicted with a difficulty of the heart, she could not walk so fast as some of the girls, so Mr. Style found himself safely at Mrs. Varley’s door with his delicate charge, many minutes after all the others were laughing and speculating about it in their own rooms.
“Well, Adelaide, what do you think of Mrs. Tower’s coaxing a very pretty young lady to her house, to pass some weeks in company with the Rev. Mr. Style?” said Charlotte, very sharply, as she ran upstairs to the parlor, in double quick time, quite independent of the “heart difficulty,” that had so impeded her progress home.
“It’s downright scandalous!” said Miss Annette, the eldest daughter, “and I should not wonder at any breeze it might raise in the church and society—it may result in something very unpleasant indeed!” and Annette shook her head very doubtfully.
“It is ridiculous! Nothing but a trap, depend on it,” said Mrs. Varley, for Adelaide had detailed the whole story with her own annotations long before Charlotte reached home.
“It is really a very presuming thing,” seriously responded Annette, shaking her head still more dubiously.
“Yes, yes—very presumptuous indeed!” sneered Mrs. Varley, who never had any opinions, only those that were to be had at second hand. “Just as if Mrs. Tower could not only dictate who we shall have for minister, but also who he shall marry! for I declare, girls, it looks like that—don’t it now?”