'Certainly,' said he.

'And then you shall see him tomorrow. Let me see--at what hour shall I
bid you come?'

'To breakfast.'

'No, indeed. What on earth would your aunt do with her broiled turkey
and the cold pie? I have got no cold pie for you.'

'I hate cold pie.'

'What a pity! But, John, I should be forced to leave you directly after
breakfast. Come down--come down at two, or three; and then I will go
back with you to Aunt Penelope. I must see her tomorrow.' And so at last
the matter was settled, and the happy Captain, as he left her, was
hardly resisted in his attempt to press her lips to his own.

When she entered the parlour in which her father was sitting, there
still were Gribbles and Poulter discussing some knotty point of Devon
lore. So Patience took off her hat, and sat herself down, waiting till
they should go. For full an hour she had to wait, and then Gribbles and
Poulter did go. But it was not in such matters as this that Patience
Woolsworthy was impatient. She could wait, and wait, and wait, curbing
herself for weeks and months, while the thing waited for was in her eyes
good; but she could not curb her hot thoughts or her hot words when
things came to be discussed which she did not think to be good.

'Papa,' she said, when Gribbles' long-drawn last word had been spoken at