I had called twice on him; so I
thought he ought to get over his temper, and call on a tried friend
like me. A misunderstanding! Now, my dear, let us have no more of these
misunderstandings. You will always be welcome at my house, and I shall
often come here and look after you and your interests. What do you mean
to do, I wonder?"

"Sir, I am to go home to my father, if he will be troubled with me. I
have written to him."

"And what is to become of the Bijou?"

"My Christie thought I should like to part with it, and the
furniture--but his own writing-desk and his chair, no, I never will,
and his little clock. Oh! oh! oh!--But I remember what you said about
agents, and I don't know what to do; for I shall be away."

"Then, leave it to me. I'll come and live here with one servant; and
I'll soon sell it for you."

"You, Uncle Philip!"

"Well, why not?" said he roughly.

"That will be a great trouble and discomfort to you, I'm afraid."

"If I find it so, I'll soon drop it. I'm not the fool to put myself out
for anybody. When you are ready to go out, send me word, and I'll come
in."

Soon after this he bustled off. He gave her a sort of hurried kiss at
parting, as if he was ashamed of it, and wanted it over as quickly as
possible.

Next day her father came, condoled with her politely, assured her there
was nothing to cry about; husbands were a sort of functionaries that
generally went to sea at some part of their career, and no harm ever
came of it. On the contrary, "Absence makes the heart grow fonder," said
this judicious parent.

This sentiment happened to be just a little too true, and set the
daughter crying bitterly. But she fought against it. "Oh no!" said she,
"I MUSTN'T. I will not be always crying in Kent Villa."

"Lord forbid!"

"I shall get over it in time--a little."

"Why, of course you will. But as to your coming to Kent Villa, I
am afraid you would not be very comfortable there. You know I am
superannuated. Only got my pension now."

"I know that, papa: and--why, that is one of the reasons. I have a good
income now; and I thought if we put our means together"--

"Oh, that is a very different thing. You will want a carriage, I
suppose. I have put mine down."

"No carriage; no horse; no footman; no luxury of any kind till my
Christie comes back. I abhor dress; I abhor expense; I loathe everything
I once liked too well; I detest every folly that has parted us; and I
hate myself worst of