Just as Margaret had exhausted her last subject of

conversation--and yet conversation that could hardly be called

which consisted of so few and such short speeches--her father

came in, and with his pleasant gentlemanly courteousness of

apology, reinstated his name and family in Mr. Thornton's good

opinion.

Mr. Hale and his visitor had a good deal to say respecting their

mutual friend, Mr. Bell; and Margaret, glad that her part of

entertaining the visitor was over, went to the window to try and

make herself more familiar with the strange aspect of the street.

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She got so much absorbed in watching what was going on outside

that she hardly heard her father when he spoke to her, and he had

to repeat what he said: 'Margaret! the landlord will persist in admiring that hideous

paper, and I am afraid we must let it remain.' 'Oh dear! I am sorry!' she replied, and began to turn over in her

mind the possibility of hiding part of it, at least, by some of

her sketches, but gave up the idea at last, as likely only to

make bad worse. Her father, meanwhile, with his kindly country

hospitality, was pressing Mr. Thornton to stay to luncheon with

them. It would have been very inconvenient to him to do so, yet

he felt that he should have yielded, if Margaret by word or look

had seconded her father's invitation; he was glad she did not,

and yet he was irritated at her for not doing it. She gave him a

low, grave bow when he left, and he felt more awkward and

self-conscious in every limb than he had ever done in all his

life before.

'Well, Margaret, now to luncheon, as fast we can. Have you

ordered it?' 'No, papa; that man was here when I came home, and I have never

had an opportunity.' 'Then we must take anything we can get. He must have been waiting

a long time, I'm afraid.' 'It seemed exceedingly long to me. I was just at the last gasp

when you came in. He never went on with any subject, but gave

little, short, abrupt answers.' 'Very much to the point though, I should think. He is a

clearheaded fellow. He said (did you hear?) that Crampton is on

gravelly soil, and by far the most healthy suburb in the

neighbour hood of Milton.' When they returned to Heston, there was the day's account to be

given to Mrs. Hale, who was full of questions which they answered

in the intervals of tea-drinking.

'And what is your correspondent, Mr. Thornton, like?' 'Ask Margaret,' said her husband. 'She and he had a long attempt

at conversation, while I was away speaking to the landlord.' 'Oh! I hardly know what he is like,' said Margaret, lazily; too

tired to tax her powers of description much. And then rousing

herself, she said, 'He is a tall, broad-shouldered man,

about--how old, papa?' 'I should guess about thirty.' 'About thirty--with a face that is neither exactly plain, nor yet

handsome, nothing remarkable--not quite a gentleman; but that was

hardly to be expected.' 'Not vulgar, or common though,' put in her father, rather jealous

of any disparagement of the sole friend he had in Milton.




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