'Where's Carrie ?' Miss Mason replied that the child wouldn't wait any longer for her supper, and that Daisy, the little servant, was feeding her.

Then, slipping her arm inside Mrs.Fenwick's, Miss Mason looked at the sunset.
'It's a sweet little cottage,' she said, shading her eyes from the fast-sinking orb, and then turning them on the tiny house--'but I dare say you'll not be here long, Phoebe.' Mrs.Fenwick started.
'John told Mr.Harrock he'd pay him rent for it till next Easter.' Miss Mason laughed.
'Are you going to let John go wasting his time here till next Easter ?' The arm she held moved involuntarily.
'He has several commissions--people not far from here,' said Mrs.
Fenwick, hurriedly.

'And if the weather's too bad, we can always go to rooms in Kendal or Ambleside.' 'Well, if that's what you're thinking of, my dear, you'd better make a clerk of him at once and have done with it! He told me his uncle would always find him work in the upholstery business.' Phoebe's soft cheeks trembled a little.
'Some day we'll have saved some money,' she said, in a low voice--'and then we'll go to London; and--and John will get on.' 'Yes--when you stop holding him back, Mrs.Phoebe Fenwick!' 'Oh! Miss Anna, I don't hold him back!' cried the wife, suddenly, impetuously.
Miss Mason shook an incredulous head.
'I haven't heard a single word of his bettering himself--of his doing anything but muddle on here--having a "crack" with this farmer and that--and painting pictures he's a sight too good for, since I came this morning; and we've talked for hours.

No--I may as well have it out--I'm a one for plain speaking; I'm a bit disappointed in you both.
As for you, Phoebe, you'll be precious sorry for it some day if you don't drive him out of this.' 'Where should I drive him to ?' cried Mrs.Fenwick, stifled.

She had broken a sycamore twig, and was stripping it violently of its buds.
Miss Anna looked at her unmoved.