in the middle of a sentence, and cried, "Oh!"
"Has a pin run into you?" asked Bob; but he too gasped as he saw Miser Farebrother, leaning upon Jeremiah's arm, standing in front. Aunt Leth was the first to speak to him.
"How do you do, Mr. Farebrother?" she said, holding out her hand.
"Weak and ill, as you see," said Miser Farebrother, shaking hands with his sister-in-law; "a martyr to rheumatism and other pains. I'm growing old, sister-in-law; I am growing old. Don't you see the change in me?"
"We are all growing old," said Mrs. Lethbridge, with a sympathizing smile.
"But some can bear it better than others," groaned Miser Farebrother. "Now, you are strong and can walk without assistance. Look at me: even with my crutch-stick I cannot walk without human support. Don't go, Jeremiah; I shall fall to the ground if you leave me. You know my sister-in-law?"
"Yes," said Jeremiah, with a careless nod at Aunt Leth; "we had tea together – a delightful tea."
He had been searching with his eyes for Phœbe, and not seeing her or Fred Cornwall, had made a movement to leave his master.
"We have to thank you," said Aunt Leth to Miser Farebrother, "for a very pleasant evening."
"Don't speak of it. We ought to see more of each other; you ought to have been here oftener. One's flesh and blood – we are almost that, are we not, sister-in-law? – should not desert one as you have deserted me."
"Indeed! indeed!" stammered Aunt Leth, somewhat confounded by this reproach.
"Never mind, never mind," said Miser Farebrother, with a gentle air of resignation. "We must say nothing but kind things to one another. If you have deserted me, you have not deserted my dear child, who is always full of praises of you."
"We love her," said Aunt Leth, "as well as we love our own."
"It is very good of you. Is that your husband? My eyesight is shockingly weak. I'm breaking fast, I'm afraid."
Mr. Lethbridge came forward, and Miser Farebrother seized his hand and gave it a cordial grasp. The kind-hearted man could find nothing better to say than,
"I am very glad to see you, Mr. Farebrother."
"Not so glad to see me as I am to see you. It is quite like old times – quite like old times. How is the world using you? But I need not ask; I can see for myself. I am very pleased – very – very! You deserve it. I wish the world used me as well; but we can't all be so fortunate. When I was a young man, I used to hope that when I was as old as I am now I should be able to keep a carriage. Young hopes, brother-in-law – eh? Seldom realized, are they? I can hardly afford to keep a – a wheelbarrow – eh, Jeremiah?"
"Yes, sir," said Jeremiah, obsequiously.
"We can't have all we wish," pursued Miser Farebrother; and Jeremiah, although he was impatient to go in search of Phœbe, whom he now looked upon as his property, could not help taking interest and pleasure in his master's gentle and philosophic departure, which he, better than any one of the other listeners, could appreciate at its true value. "In a hundred years to come, a carriage and a wheelbarrow will be all the same to us. Still, I am glad to hear of your good fortune." (Mr. Lethbridge stared, and wondered whether he was awake or asleep, or whether he had said anything of which he was unconscious.) "How well and hale you look! Not a day older – not a day. You must tell me the secret; though I fear it is too late for me. And this young gentleman" – turning to Bob, who became suddenly very hot and uncomfortable – "your son, eh? – your bright boy?"
"Yes," said Mr. Lethbridge; "our son Robert."
"How do you do, nephew?" said Miser Farebrother, giving Bob two fingers, which, when Bob got them, he did not know what to do with. "And how is the world using you?"
"Extremely well, sir, thank you," Bob blurted out, without in the least knowing what he was saying; for, instead of the world using him extremely well, it was not using him at all.
"How pleasant to hear!" exclaimed Miser Farebrother. "I feel like rubbing my hands, but one has my crutch-stick in it, and the other is leaning on Jeremiah. You come of a lucky stock; go on and prosper, nephew. And this – " He turned to Fanny, who, in a feverish state, was awaiting recognition. She was so confused that it was not until hours afterward that her indignation was excited at being referred to as "this" – as though she were a chattel.
"Our daughter Fanny," said Aunt Leth, observing that her husband was incapable of speech.
"Kiss me, niece," said Miser Farebrother. He raised his wrinkled face, and Fanny put her lips to it. He called a joyous look into his eyes, and in a kind of rapture murmured: "The kiss of beauty! But don't be too lavish of them, niece." He peered around as though he suddenly missed somebody. "Where is your young gentleman, niece?"
Jeremiah chuckled quietly.
"My young gentleman!" cried Fanny, flushing up.
Her mother gave her a warning look.
"Yes, your young gentleman. There is one here, isn't there? or did Phœbe make a mistake?"
"You mean Mr. Cornwall," said Aunt Leth, in a gentle tone.
"I think that is the name Phœbe mentioned. A lawyer, isn't he?"
"Yes," replied Fanny, before her mother could speak, "and a very clever one."
"Bravo! bravo!" exclaimed Miser Farebrother. "That is as it should be. I am sure he is a very clever one; I hope we are not wrong in our opinion of him – for your sake, niece, for your sake. Sister-in-law, brother-in-law, I congratulate you. Niece, kiss me again."
Fanny held back, but her mother murmured, "Fanny!" and the girl kissed the miser's wrinkled face again, upon which he smacked his lips and cast up his eyes languishingly.
"And now," he said, "I must really go and find my dear Phœbe and the very clever lawyer. We must go; mustn't we, Jeremiah? See, sister-in-law, Jeremiah brought some flowers for my dear child, and happening to forget them when she left the table, she sent him back for them. I am ashamed of myself for having detained him. Do you know where Phœbe is? – this way – or that? That way? Thank you; I shall easily find her. Remember what I said to you – we must really see more of each other; you must come here oftener. And you, brother-in-law, and you, niece. And hark you, nephew: when I asked you how the world was using you, you answered, 'Extremely well, sir.' You did, did you not?"
"Yes, sir," said Bob, not knowing what was coming.
"You were wrong, and you are wrong again. Sister-in-law, too: you called me 'Mr. Farebrother?'"
"Yes," said Aunt Leth, faintly.
"But why? why? Why 'sir' and why 'Mr.'? Everybody else calls me Miser Farebrother. I like it; it tickles me. Pray call me that for the future, like good-natured souls, as you are. Come, Jeremiah, come. Phœbe will be impatient for your flowers."
He hobbled away, clinging to Jeremiah's arm, and presently said,
"Well, Jeremiah?"
"Thank you," said Jeremiah.
"Keep faith with me," said Miser Farebrother, fiercely, taking his hand from Jeremiah's arm, and standing erect, "and I'll keep faith with you. Trick me, deceive me, rob me, and I'll make England too hot to hold you!"
"Why
