“Why, you don’t like Camden’s, then,” said Miss Winifred, in some anxiety.
“Yes, I do,” said Mary. “I don’t like the other clergymen’s neckcloths, because it is they who wear them.”
“How very puzzling!” said Miss Noble, feeling that her own intellect was probably deficient.
“My dear, you are joking. You would have better reasons than these for slighting so respectable a class of men,” said Mrs. Farebrother, majestically.
“Miss Garth has such severe notions of what people should be that it is difficult to satisfy her,” said Fred.
“Well, I am glad at least that she makes an exception in favor of my son,” said the old lady.
Mary was wondering at Fred’s piqued tone, when Mr. Farebrother came in and had to hear the news about the engagement under Mr. Garth. At the end he said with quiet satisfaction, “ That is right;” and then bent to look at Mary’s labels and praise her handwriting. Fred felt horribly jealous—was glad, of course, that Mr. Farebrother was so estimable, but wished that he had been ugly and fat as men at forty sometimes are. It was clear what the end would be, since Mary openly placed Farebrother above everybody, and these women were all evidently encouraging the affair. He was feeling sure that he should have no chance of speaking to Mary, when Mr. Farebrother said—
“Fred, help me to carry these drawers back into my study—you have never seen my fine new study. Pray come too, Miss Garth. I want you to see a stupendous spider I found this morning.”
Mary at once saw the Vicar’s intention. He had never since the memorable evening deviated from his old pastoral kindness towards her,