MRS. GIBSON'S LITTLE DINNER.
Illustrationll this had taken place Roger's meeting with Molly and Cynthia at Miss Brownings'; and the little dinner on the Friday at Mr. Gibson's, which in sequence.
Mrs. Gibson the Hamleys to this dinner pleasant; and they did. Mr. Gibson was of the two men, for their parents' and their own, for he had them since boyhood; and to those he liked Mr. Gibson be agreeable. Mrs. Gibson gave them a welcome—and in a is a very for any other there may be. Cynthia and Molly looked their best, which was all the Mrs. Gibson of them, as she was to take her full in the conversation. Osborne to her lot, of course, and for some time he and she on with all the of manner and of meaning which go to make the "art of conversation." Roger, who ought to have himself to one or the other of the ladies, was in what Mr. Gibson was telling him of a paper on in some of science, which Lord Hollingford was in the of to his friend the country surgeon. Yet, every now and then while he listened, he his attention to the of Cynthia, who was his and Mr. Gibson. She was not particularly with to anything that was going on; her were dropped, as she her on the tablecloth, and her long were on the clear of her cheek. She was of something else; Molly was trying to with all her might. Suddenly Cynthia looked up, and Roger's of too for her to be that he was at her. She a little; but, after the moment of at his of her, she to the attack, his at thus being caught, to the of himself from her accusation.
"It is true!" she said to him. "I was not attending: you see I don't know the A B C of science. But, please, don't look so at me, if I am a dunce!"
"I didn't know—I didn't to look severely, I am sure," he, not well what to say.
"Cynthia is not a either," said Mrs. Gibson, her daughter's opinion of herself might be taken seriously. "But I have always that some people have a for one thing and some for another. Now Cynthia's are not for science and the studies. Do you remember, love, what trouble I had to teach you the use of the globes?"
"Yes; and I don't know from now; and I'm always puzzled as to which is and which is horizontal."
"Yet, I do you," her mother continued, herself to Osborne, "that her memory for is prodigious. I have her repeat the 'Prisoner of Chillon' from to end."
"It would be a to have to her, I think," said Mr. Gibson, at Cynthia, who gave him one of her looks of understanding.
"Ah, Mr. Gibson, I have out now that you have no for poetry; and Molly there is your own child. She reads such books—all about and figures: she'll be a blue-stocking by-and-by."
"Mamma," said Molly, reddening, "you think it was a book there were the of the different of in it! but it was not at all deep. It was very interesting."
"Never mind, Molly," said Osborne. "I up for blue-stockings."
"And I object to the in what you say," said Roger. "It was not deep, ergo, it was very interesting. Now, a book may be and interesting."
"Oh, if you are going to logic and use Latin words, I think it is time for us to the room," said Mrs. Gibson.
"Don't let us away as if we were beaten, mamma," said Cynthia. "Though it may be logic, I, for one, can what Mr. Roger Hamley said just now; and I read some of Molly's books; and it was or not I it very interesting—more so than I should think the 'Prisoner of Chillon' now-a-days. I've the Prisoner to make room for Johnnie Gilpin as my poem."
"How you talk such nonsense, Cynthia!" said Mrs. Gibson, as the girls her upstairs. "You know you are not a dunce. It is all very well not to be a blue-stocking, gentle-people don't like that of woman; but down, and all I said about your for Byron, and and poetry—to Osborne Hamley of all men, too!"
Mrs. Gibson spoke for her.
"But, mamma," Cynthia replied, "I am either a dunce, or I am not. If I am, I did right to own it; if I am not, he's a if he doesn't out I was joking."
"Well," said Mrs. Gibson, a little puzzled by this speech, and wanting some addition.
"Only that if he's a his opinion of me is nothing. So, any way, it doesn't signify."
"You me with your nonsense, child. Molly is twenty of you."
"I agree with you, mamma," said Cynthia, to take Molly's hand.
"Yes; but she ought not to be," said Mrs. Gibson, still irritated. "Think of the you've had."
"I'm I had be a than a blue-stocking," said Molly; for the term had a little her, and the was still.
"Hush; here they are coming: I the dining-room door! I meant you were a blue-stocking, dear, so don't look vexed.—Cynthia, my love, where did you those flowers—anemones, are they? They your so exactly."
"Come, Molly, don't look so and thoughtful," Cynthia. "Don't you wants us to be and amiable?"
Mr. Gibson had had to go out to his round; and the men were all too to come up into the drawing-room; the little wood-fire; the easy-chairs which, with so small a party, might be the hearth; the good-natured hostess; the pretty, girls. Roger up to the where Cynthia was standing, playing with a hand-screen.
"There is a in Hollingford soon, isn't there?" asked he.
"Yes; on Easter Tuesday," she replied.
"Are you going? I you are?"
"Yes; is going to take Molly and me."
"You will it very much—going together?"
For the time this little she up at him—real out of her eyes.
"Yes; going together will make the of the thing. It would be without her."
"You are great friends, then?" he asked.
"I I should like any one so much,—any girl I mean."
She put in the final in all of heart; and in all did he it. He came so little nearer, and his voice a little.
"I was so to know. I am so glad. I have often how you two were on."
"Have you?" said she, looking up again. "At Cambridge? You must be very of Molly!"
"Yes, I am. She was with us so long; and at such a time! I look upon her almost as a sister."
"And she is very of all of you. I to know you all from her talk about you so much.—All of you!" said she, an on "all" to that it the as well as the living. Roger was for a minute or two.
"I didn't know you, by hearsay. So you mustn't wonder that I was a little afraid. But as soon as I saw you I how it must be; and it was such a relief!"
"Cynthia," said Mrs. Gibson, who that the son had had his of low, conversation, "come here, and sing that little French to Mr. Osborne Hamley."
"Which do you mean, mamma? 'Tu t'en repentiras, Colin?'"
"Yes; such a pretty, little to men," said Mrs. Gibson, up at Osborne. "The is—
Tu t'en repentiras, Colin,
Tu t'en repentiras,
Car si tu femme, Colin,
Tu t'en repentiras.
The may apply very well when there is a French wife in the case; but not, I am sure, to an Englishman who is of an English wife."
"Tu t'en repentiras, Colin."
"Tu t'en repentiras, Colin."
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This choice of a song was mal-àpropos, had Mrs. Gibson but it. Osborne and Roger that the wife of the was a Frenchwoman, and, of each other's knowledge, awkward; while Molly was as much as though she herself were married. However, Cynthia the saucy out, and her mother at it, in total of any it might have. Osborne had gone to Cynthia, as she at the piano, so as to be to turn over the of her music if she it. He his hands in his pockets and his on her fingers; his with at all the which she so sang. Roger looked as well, but was much more at his than his brother; indeed, he was half-amused by the of the situation. He Molly's and colour, and he saw that she was this more than she needed to do. He moved to a seat by her, and whispered, "Too late a warning, is it not?"
Molly looked up at him as he her, and in the same tone—"Oh, I am so sorry!"
"You need not be. He won't mind it long; and a man must take the when he puts himself in a false position."
Molly not tell what to reply to this, so she her and silence. Yet she see that Roger did not his or remove his hand from the of his chair, and, by to out the of his stillness, she looked up at him at length, and saw his on the two who were near the piano. Osborne was saying something to Cynthia, were to him with soft of expression, and her mouth half-open, with a of for him to speaking, that she might reply.
"They are talking about France," said Roger, in answer to Molly's question. "Osborne it well, and Miss Kirkpatrick has been at there, you know. It very interesting; shall we go nearer and what they are saying?"
It was all very well to ask this civilly, but Molly it would have been to wait for her answer. Instead of waiting, however, Roger to the piano, and, on it, appeared to join in the light talk, while he his as much as he by looking at Cynthia. Molly as if she keep from crying—a minute ago he had been so near to her, and talking so and confidentially; and now he almost as if he had her existence. She that all this was wrong; and she its to herself; "mean," and "envious of Cynthia," and "ill-natured," and "selfish," were the terms she to herself; but it did no good, she was just as at the last as at the first.
Mrs. Gibson into the of which Molly was to for ever. Her work had been up to this time, and had a great of counting; so she had had no time to to her duties, one of which she always took to be to herself to the world as an stepmother. Cynthia had played and sung, and now she must give Molly her turn of exhibition. Cynthia's and playing was light and graceful, but anything but correct; but she herself was so charming, that it was only for music who for false and notes. Molly, on the contrary, had an excellent ear, if she had been well taught; and from and of disposition, she would go over an passage for twenty times. But she was very of playing in company; and when to do it, she through her performance heavily, and her more than any one.
"Now, you must play a little, Molly," said Mrs. Gibson; "play us that piece of Kalkbrenner's, my dear."
Molly looked up at her with eyes; but it only out another of request, still more like a command.
"Go at once, my dear. You may not play it rightly; and I know you are very nervous; but you're friends."
So there was a in the little group at the piano, and Molly to her martyrdom.
"Please, go away!" said she to Osborne, who was her to turn over. "I can well do it for myself. And oh! if you would but talk!"
Osborne where he was in of her appeal, and gave her what little she got; for Mrs. Gibson, by her previous of her stitches, asleep in her sofa-corner near the fire; and Roger, who at to talk a little in with Molly's request, his with Cynthia so agreeable, that Molly her place times in trying to catch a of Cynthia at her work, and Roger by her, on her low to what he was saying.
"There, now I've done!" said Molly, up as soon as she had the eighteen pages; "and I think I will to play again!"
Osborne laughed at her vehemence. Cynthia to take some part in what was being said, and thus the general. Mrs. Gibson up gracefully, as was her way of doing all things, and into the they were talking about so easily, that she almost succeeded in making them she had been asleep at all.
