BOOK VIII. SUNSET AND SUNRISE.
86. CHAPTER LXXXVI.
(continued)
"Oh, you dear good father!" cried Mary, putting her hands round her
father's neck, while he bent his head placidly, willing to be caressed.
"I wonder if any other girl thinks her father the best man in the world!"
"Nonsense, child; you'll think your husband better."
"Impossible," said Mary, relapsing into her usual tone; "husbands
are an inferior class of men, who require keeping in order."
When they were entering the house with Letty, who had run to join them,
Mary saw Fred at the orchard-gate, and went to meet him.
"What fine clothes you wear, you extravagant youth!" said Mary,
as Fred stood still and raised his hat to her with playful formality.
"You are not learning economy."
"Now that is too bad, Mary," said Fred. "Just look at the edges
of these coat-cuffs! It is only by dint of good brushing that I
look respectable. I am saving up three suits--one for a wedding-suit."
"How very droll you will look!--like a gentleman in an old fashion-book."
"Oh no, they will keep two years."
"Two years! be reasonable, Fred," said Mary, turning to walk.
"Don't encourage flattering expectations."
"Why not? One lives on them better than on unflattering ones.
If we can't be married in two years, the truth will be quite bad
enough when it comes."
"I have heard a story of a young gentleman who once encouraged
flattering expectations, and they did him harm."
"Mary, if you've got something discouraging to tell me, I shall bolt;
I shall go into the house to Mr. Garth. I am out of spirits.
My father is so cut up--home is not like itself. I can't bear any
more bad news."
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