Clarkson by
letter, and in the lengthy correspondence that followed kept him posted
as to the movements of Mrs. Phipps. By dint of warnings and entreaties
he kept the bridegroom-elect in London for three months. By that time
Little Molton was beginning to talk.
"They're beginning to see how the land lays," said Mr. Smithson, on the
evening of his friend's return, "and if you keep quiet and do as I tell
you she'll begin to see it too. As I said before, she can't name the day
till you ask her."
Mr. Clarkson agreed, and the following morning, when he called upon Mrs.
Phipps at her request, his manner was so distant that she attributed it
to ill-health following business worries and the atmosphere of London.
In the front parlour Mr. Digson, a small builder and contractor, was busy
whitewashing.
"I thought we might as well get on with that," said Mrs. Phipps; "there
is only one way of doing whitewashing, and the room has got to be done.
To-morrow Mr. Digson will bring up some papers, and, if you'll come
round, you can help me choose."
Mr. Clarkson hesitated. "Why not choose 'em yourself?" he said at last.
"Just what I told her," said Mr. Digson, stroking his black beard.
"What'll please you will be sure to please him, I says; and if it don't
it ought to.
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