“I am always suspicious of men without homes—of men who live in clubs or lodgings,” observed my aunt. “Of course I am not speaking of young men who haven’t had time to get married,” she added apologetically.
“A man is not respectable without a home,” said my uncle.
“And he can’t have a home without a wife,” I answered.
“How hot it is!” exclaimed Conny, a little peevishly. “This road is so dreadfully dazzling to the eyes, that I can hardly see. What a pity people mayn’t use their carriages on a Sunday!”
“No, no! we ought all to go afoot to God’s house,” said my uncle. “The day we dedicate to Him should be a levelling day—a reminder to rich and poor of their common mortality. But little piety will be left in the bosom of a hard-working labourer who, on quitting his place in the free seats, comes out and sees the rich saints luxuriously rolling homewards in fine carriages.”
“Remember what your papa says, Conny,” remarked my aunt.
“I don’t see why poor people should feel more on Sundays than on week days,” answered Conny.
“Well, they do,” said my aunt.
“This is better,” I exclaimed, as we turned into the long shady lane that led to my uncle’s house. But Conny seemed rather sulky, and for the rest of the walk remained silent.
In spite of my aunt’s cheerfulness, we were not so brisk a party at the dinner-table as we usually were. Conny complained of the heat, which, she said, always depressed her. For my part, I did not find it so very hot. The windows were wide open, and there was just enough air abroad to make the temperature of the atmosphere perfectly luxurious. However, Conny was in one of those moods which render grievances necessary conditions of life. “She is not all sweetness!” I thought. But that discovery didn’t weaken my admiration. I was just of that age when a man will love a woman through everything, and for everything; through spleen and sauciness; for fickleness and flirtation; through bad grammar, and for gross relations; when he finds that everything she wears becomes her, that everything she says makes her more enchanting; when he mistakes temper for spirit, and many other things for many other things. I think, had my cousin stood on her head, I should have considered her posture the most graceful and becoming one in the world.