Emily, bringing in the hot sweet pudding to replace the cold meat, would
wag a facetiously warning head at the young lady behind the back of the
unconscious Mr. Gibbon. "Don't you go leading that nice young chap on to
make a fool of hisself over you, Miss Bessie," she would caution the girl,
the next day.
"He can take care of himself. Make your mind quite easy," Bessie would
answer, well pleased. She loved to discuss such topics with her devoted
admirer, Emily, and liked to be accused of breaking hearts.
"We shall be late for supper again," Mrs. Day, busy with daybook and
ledger in the shop, would say to the young daughter beside her.
"Never mind, mama. Perhaps it is charity not to hurry," Deleah on one
occasion responded.
"Oh, nonsense, dear!" said Mrs. Day, looking up with alarm in her tired
eyes.
"Well, if Mr. Gibbon is in love with Bessie?"
"'If,' indeed!"
"That will be the end of it. You'll see."
"The end indeed, Deleah!"
"You think Bessie would not take him?"
"Bessie will, at least, wait till he asks her."
"But should you object, mama? He is not a gentleman, I suppose; Bessie
says he's not. But I think we've got to accept things and people and our
place, as we are; not always to be looking back to what used to be.
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