I think Mr Bullock rather liked to talk about Liebig in my hearing; it sounded well, and was knowing. Mrs Bullock was not particularly placid in her mood. In the first place, I wanted to sit by the Vicar’s daughter, and Miss Caroline as decidedly wanted to sit on my other side, being afraid of her fainting fits, I imagine. But Mrs Bullock called me to a place near her daughter. Now I thought I had done enough civility to a girl who was evidently annoyed rather than pleased by my attentions, and I pretended to be busy stooping under the table for Miss Caroline’s gloves, which were missing; but it was of no avail; Mrs Bullock’s fine severe eyes were awaiting my reappearance, and she summoned me again.

‘“I am keeping this place on my right hand for you, Mr Harrison. Jemima; sit still!”

‘I went up to the post of honour and tried to busy myself with pouring out coffee to hide my chagrin; but after forgetting to empty the water put in (“to warm the cups,” Mrs Bullock said), and omitting to add any sugar, the lady told me she would dispense with my services, and turn me over to my neighbour on the other side.

‘“Talking to the younger lady was, no doubt, more Mr Harrison’s vocation than assisting the elder one.” I dare say it was only the manner that made the words seem offensive. Miss Horsman sat opposite me, smiling away. Miss Bullock did not speak, but seemed more depressed than ever. At length, Miss Horsman and Mrs Bullock got to a war of innuendoes, which were completely unintelligible to me; and I was very much displeased with my situation. While, at the bottom of the table, Mr Morgan and Mr Bullock were making the young ones laugh most heartily. Part of the joke was Mr Morgan insisting upon making tea at that end; and Sophy and Helen were busy contriving every possible mistake for him. I thought honour was a very good thing, but merriment a better. Here was I in the place of distinction, hearing nothing but cross words. At last the time came for us to go home. As the evening was damp, the seats in the chaises were the best and most to be desired. And now Sophy offered to go in the cart; only she seemed anxious, and so was I, that Walter should be secured from the effects of the white wreaths of fog rolling up from the valley; but the little violent affectionate fellow would not be separated from Sophy. She made a nest for him on her knee in one corner of the cart, and covered him with her own shawl; and I hoped that he would take no harm. Miss Tomkinson, Mr Bullock, and some of the young ones walked; but I seemed chained to the windows of the chaise, for Miss Caroline begged me not to leave her, as she was dreadfully afraid of robbers; and Mrs Bullock implored me to see that the man did not overturn them in the bad roads, as he had certainly had too much to drink.

‘I became so irritable before I reached home, that I thought it was the most disagreeable day of pleasure I had ever had, and could hardly bear to answer Mrs Rose’s never-ending questions. She told me, however, that from my account the day was so charming that she thought she should relax in the rigour of her seclusion, and mingle a little more in the society of which I gave so tempting a description. She really thought her dear Mr Rose would have wished it; and his will should be law to her after his death, as it had ever been during his life. In compliance, therefore, with his wishes, she would even do a little violence to her own feelings.

‘She was very good and kind; not merely attentive to everything which she thought could conduce to my comfort, but willing to take any trouble in providing the broths and nourishing food which I often found it convenient to order, under the name of kitchen-physic, for my poorer patients; and I really did not see the use of her shutting herself up, in mere compliance with an etiquette, when she began to wish to mix in the little quiet society of Duncombe. Accordingly I urged her to begin to visit, and even when applied to as to what I imagined the late Mr Rose’s wishes on that subject would have been, answered for that worthy gentleman, and assured his widow that I was convinced he would have regretted deeply her giving way to immoderate grief, and would have been rather grateful than otherwise at seeing her endeavour to divert her thoughts by a few quiet visits. She cheered up, and said, “as I really thought so, she would sacrifice her own inclinations, and accept the very next invitation that came.”

Chapter VII

‘I WAS ROUSED from my sleep in the middle of the night by a messenger from the vicarage. Little Walter had got the croup, and Mr Morgan had been sent for into the country. I dressed myself hastily, and went through the quiet little street. There was a light burning upstairs at the vicarage. It was in the nursery. The servant, who opened the door the instant I knocked, was crying sadly, and could hardly answer my inquiries as I went upstairs, two steps at a time, to see my little favourite.

‘The nursery was a great large room. At the farther end it was lighted by a common candle, which left the other end, where the door was, in shade, so I suppose the nurse did not see me come in, for she was speaking very crossly.

‘“Miss Sophy!” said she, “I told you over and over again it was not fit for him to go, with the hoarseness that he had, and you would take him. It will break your papa’s heart, I know; but it’s none of my doing.”

‘Whatever Sophy felt, she did not speak in answer to this.