“Our child, my dear—our dear Susy is entitled to the best counsel I can give her.”
“I knew you would take her part!” cried Mrs. Foxville. “Dear Susy, indeed! She is a very bad Susy. I would have you, Mr. Foxville, respect a mother’s feelings!”
“Well, well; yes, yes, to be sure I will,” replied the husband, who was as valiant as an ox and nearly as strong in muscle, but was now in dread of a second lecture. “I will, you may depend upon it.”
With this promise on his lips he composed himself to sleep, after having first noticed its soothing effect—for which he took credit to himself—on his partner.
The next day, Mr. Foxville had some conversation alone with Susy. A little kindness soon reassured her, and, like a true-hearted daughter, she did not attempt to conceal her attachment to Nathaniel from her father. She opened her mind to him, and promised to abide by his advice; and on the question of questions—that of fortune—she professed her belief that Nathaniel Wodehouse would not be found in the forlorn condition in which her mamma and sister, in spite of her, had insisted. She acknowledged that she had no proof of this but her lover’s word, which, she said, Matilda had derided. Her lover’s word! that was all—sufficient for Susy! But she approved of her father’s fully satisfying himself on this point, as a duty to his family and to her.
There are several ways of giving advice. It is a favorite plan with some to administer it as they would physic, and the more nauseous it is, the more they seem to like administering it; and they would quarrel with their best friend for not taking it. Even among the more considerate, not every one has the modesty not to have his equanimity disturbed by having his advice asked and then disregarded. Mr. Foxville was not one of either of these classes. He might allowably be a little more positive in counselling his own daughter, but practically he followed in her regard his usual method, heedless of all the admonitions of his better half. That method was to pile up all the pros and cons which occurred to him on both sides of a question, and leave his client very much to his own decision. In effect, this was to offer no advice at all, but the course of proceedings looked grave and offended no one, while it enabled him to remain true to his maxim of never meddling in other people’s business. The only stumbling-block with Mr. Foxville, in the present instance, was a suitable position for his daughter, and that he would look into as a matter of imperative necessity. The rest he would leave to those most vitally interested, after his usual formal statement of all the disadvantages, which always came first, and then the advantages of the case under consideration. Susy was accordingly much comforted by her father’s good sense and feeling, instead of being cowed and heart-broken as Mrs. Foxville and Matilda had expected to see her.
“You are a perfect fool!” said Mrs. Foxville to her husband on observing Susy’s cheerful face after the tête-à-tête. “You have not the nerve to manage my child! I must take her
in hand, poor noodle that she is. Ha! she is just like you. There’s a nice pair for you!”
Mr. Foxville attached little importance to these disparaging remarks, with the like of which he was familiar; but he invariably did things his own way, and left consequences to take care of themselves. He responded, therefore, good-humoredly:
“Not too hasty, my dear! I shall see Nathaniel Wodehouse, whether you approve of it or not. That is all I have to say.”