Page:What Will He Do With It? - Routledge - Volume 2.djvu/70

 earliest strawberries. "I'm no judge of flowers," quoth Mr. Fossett, meekly. "Give me a plain lawn, provided it be close-shaven. But I say to my gardener: 'Forcing is my hobby--a cucumber with my fish all the year round!'" Yet do not suppose Mr Fossett ostentatious--quite the reverse. He would no more ruin himself for the sake of dazzling others, than he would for the sake of serving them. He liked a warm house, spacious rooms, good living, old wine, for their inherent merits: He cared not to parade them to public envy. When he dined alone, or with a single favoured guess, the best Lafitte, the oldest sherry!--when extending the rites of miscellaneous hospitality to neighbours, relations, or other slight acquaintances--for Lafitte, Julien; and for sherry, Cape!--Thus not provoking vanity, nor courting notice, Mr. Fossett was without an enemy, and seemed without a care. Formal were his manners, formal his household, formal even the stout cob that bore him from Cheapside to Clapham, from Claphain to Cheapside. That cob could not even prick up its ears if it wished to shy--its ears were cropped, so were its mane and its tail.

Arabella early gave promise of beauty, and more than ordinary power of intellect and character. Her father be stowed on her every advantage of education. She was sent to a select boarding-school of the highest reputation; the strictest discipline, the best masters, the longest bills. At the age of seventeen she had become the show pupil of the seminary. Friends wondered somewhat why the prim merchant took such pains to lavish on his daughter the worldly accomplishments which seemed to give him no pleasure, and of which he never spoke with pride. But certainly, if she was so clever--first-rate musician, exquisite artist, accomplished linguist, "it was very nice in old Fossett to bear it so meekly, never crying her up, nor showing her off to less fortunate parents--very nice in him--good sense--greatness of mind."

"Arabella," said the worthy man one day, a little time after his eldest daughter had left school for good; "Arabella," said he, "Mrs. ---," naming the head teacher in that famous school, "pays you a very high compliment in a letter I received from her this morning. She says it is a pity you are not a poor man's daughter--that you are so steady and so clever that you could make a fortune for yourself as a teacher."

Arabella