xxiii. of _John Inglesant_; of the exquisite passage
on old dance music--its inexpressible pathos--in chap. xxv.]
'Laughing with kindly mirth, the old man drew on his woollen gloves
and took up his hat and the violin-bag. Then he offered to say
good-bye.
"But you're forgetting your top-coat, grandad," said Lydia.
"I didn't come in it, my dear."
"What's that, then? I'm sure _we_ don't wear such things."
She pointed to a chair, on which Thyrza had just artfully spread the
gift. Mr. Boddy looked in a puzzled way; had he really come in his
coat and forgotten it? He drew nearer.
"That's no coat o' mine, Lyddy," he said.
Thyrza broke into a laugh.
"Why, whose is it, then?" she exclaimed. "Don't play tricks, grandad;
put it on at once!"
"Now come, come; you're keeping Mary waiting," said Lydia, catching up
the coat and holding it ready.
Then Mr. Boddy understood. He looked from Lydia to Thyrza with dimmed
eyes.
"I've a good mind never to speak to either of you again," he said in a
tremulous voice. "As if you hadn't need enough of your money! Lyddy,
Lyddy! And you're as had, Thyrza, a grownup woman like you; you ought
to teach your sister better.
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