"
As it was now pretty late in the afternoon, I proposed that Pomona
should postpone the rest of her narrative until evening. She said
that there was nothing else to tell that was very particular; and I
did not feel as if I could stand anything more just now, even if it
was very particular.
When we were alone, I said to Euphemia:
"If we ever have to go away from this place again--"
"But we wont go away," she interrupted, looking up to me with as
bright a face as she ever had, "at least not for a long, long, long
time to come. And I'm so glad you're to be a vestryman."
CHAPTER XIV.
POMONA TAKES A BRIDAL TRIP.
Our life at Rudder Grange seemed to be in no way materially changed
by my becoming a vestryman. The cow gave about as much milk as
before, and the hens laid the usual number of eggs. Euphemia went
to church with a little more of an air, perhaps, but as the wardens
were never absent, and I was never, therefore, called upon to
assist in taking up the collection, her sense of my position was
not inordinately manifested.
For a year or two, indeed, there was no radical change in anything
about Rudder Grange, except in Pomona. In her there was a change.
She grew up.
She performed this feat quite suddenly. She was a young girl when
she first came to us, and we had never considered her as anything
else, when one evening she had a young man to see her. Then we
knew she had grown up.
We made no objections to her visitors,--she had several, from time
to time,--"for," said Euphemia, "suppose my parents had objected to
your visits.
Pages:
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172