Rose looked on, unable not to smile
too since Mrs. Fisher seemed so much amused, though Rose did not quite
know why, and her smile was a little uncertain, for Mrs. Fisher amused
was a new sight, not without its awe-inspiring aspects, and had to be
got accustomed to.
What Mrs. Fisher was thinking was how much surprised they would
be if she told them of her very odd and exciting sensation of going to
come out all over buds. They would think she was an extremely silly
old woman, and so would she have thought as lately as two days ago; but
the bud idea was becoming familiar to her, she was more apprivoisee
now, as dear Matthew Arnold used to say, and though it would
undoubtedly be best if one's appearance and sensations matched, yet
supposing they did not--and one couldn't have everything--was it not
better to feel young somewhere rather than old everywhere? Time enough
to be old everywhere again, inside as well as out, when she got back to
her sarcophagus in Prince of Wales Terrace.
Yet it is probable that without the arrival of Briggs Mrs. Fisher
would have gone on secretly fermenting in her shell. The others only
knew her as severe. It would have been more than her dignity could
bear suddenly to relax--especially towards the three young women. But
now came the stranger Briggs, a stranger who at once took to her as no
young man had taken to her in her life, and it was the coming of Briggs
and his real and manifest appreciation--for just such a grandmother,
thought Briggs, hungry for home life and its concomitants, would he
have liked to have--that released Mrs.
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