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"Go on, Mrs. Caruthers. What else should Tom look for in a wife?"
"It is not merely what a family has been, but what its a.s.sociations have been," said Mrs. Caruthers.
"These have evidently been respectable."
"But it is not that only, Philip. We want the a.s.sociations of good society; and we want position. I want Tom to marry a woman of good position."
"Hm!" said Philip. "This lady has not been accustomed to anything that you would call 'society,' and 'position'--But your son has position enough, Mrs. Caruthers. He can stand without much help."
"Now, Philip, don't you go to encourage Tom in this mad fancy. It's just a fancy. The girl has nothing; and Tom's wife ought to be-- I shall break my heart if Tom's wife is not of good family and position, and good manners, and good education. That's the least I can ask for."
"She has as good manners as anybody you know!" said Tom flaring up. "As good as Julia's, and better."
"I should say, she has no manner whatever," remarked Miss Julia quietly.
"What is 'manner'?" said Tom indignantly. "I hate it. Manner! They all have 'manner'--except the girls who make believe they have none; and their 'manner' is to want manner. Stuff!"
"But the girl knows nothing," persisted Mrs. Caruthers.
"She knows absolutely _nothing_,"--Julia confirmed this statement.
Silence.
"She speaks correct English," said Dillwyn. "That at least."
"Englis.h.!.+--but not a word of French or of any other language. And she has no particular use for the one language she does know; she cannot talk about anything. How do you know she speaks good grammar, Mr.
Dillwyn? did you ever talk with her?"
"Yes--" said Philip, making slow admission. "And I think you are mistaken in your other statement; she _can_ talk on some subjects.
Probably you did not hit the right ones."
"Well, she does not know anything," said Miss Julia.
"That is bad. Perhaps it might be mended."
"How? Nonsense! I beg your pardon, Mr. Dillwyn; but you cannot make an accomplished woman out of a country girl, if you don't begin before she is twenty. And imagine Tom with such a wife! and me with such a sister!"
"I cannot imagine it. Don't you see, Tom, you must give it up?" Dillwyn said lightly.
"I'll go to the Isles of Shoals and think about that," said Tom.
Wherewith he got up and went off.
"Mamma," said Julia then, "he's going to that place to meet that girl.
Either she is to be there with Mrs. Wishart, or he is reckoning to see her by the way; and the Isles of Shoals are just a blind. And the only thing left for you and me is to go too, and be of the party!"
"Tom don't want us along," said Tom's mother.
"Of course he don't want us along; and I am sure we don't want it either; but it is the only thing left for us to do. Don't you see?
She'll be there, or he can stop at her place by the way, going and coming; maybe Mrs. Wishart is asking her on purpose--I shouldn't be at all surprised--and they'll make up the match between them. It would be a thing for the girl, to marry Tom Caruthers!"
Mrs. Caruthers groaned, I suppose at the double prospect before her and before Tom. Philip was silent. Miss Julia went on discussing and arranging; till her brother returned.
"Tom," said she cheerfully, "we've been talking over matters, and I'll tell you what we'll do--if you won't go with us, we will go with you!"
"Where?"
"Why, to the Isles of Shoals, of course."
"You and mother!" said Tom.
"Yes. There is no fun in going about alone. We will go along with you."
"What on earth will _you_ do at a place like that?"
"Keep you from being lonely."
"Stuff, Julia! You will wish yourself back before you've been there an hour; and I tell you, I want to go fis.h.i.+ng. What would become of mother, landed on a bare rock like that, with n.o.body to speak to, and nothing but crabs to eat?"
"Crabs!" Julia echoed. Philip burst into a laugh.
"Crabs and mussels," said Tom. "I don't believe you'll get anything else."
"But is Mrs. Wishart gone there?"
"Philip says so."
"Mrs. Wishart isn't a fool."
And Tom was unable to overthrow this argument.
CHAPTER XII.
APPLEDORE.
It was a very bright, warm August day when Mrs. Wishart and her young companion steamed over from Portsmouth to the Isles of Shoals. It was Lois's first sight of the sea, for the journey from New York had been made by land; and the ocean, however still, was nothing but a most wonderful novelty to her. She wanted nothing, she could well-nigh attend to nothing, but the movements and developments of this vast and mysterious Presence of nature. Mrs. Wishart was amused and yet half provoked. There was no talk in Lois; nothing to be got out of her; hardly any attention to be had from her. She sat by the vessel's side and gazed, with a brow of grave awe and eyes of submissive admiration; rapt, absorbed, silent, and evidently glad. Mrs. Wishart was provoked at her, and envied her.
"What _do_ you find in the water, Lois?"
"O, the wonder of it!" said the girl, with a breath of rapture.
"Wonder! what wonder? I suppose everything is wonderful, if you look at it. What do you see there that seems so very wonderful?"