ill-conditioned cub. It would have been more honest. I hate to see
a man smile, when I know that he would fain swear. I like my cousin
Celia, and I like her little daughter Ciceley, who takes after her,
and not after John Dormay; but I would that the fellow lived on the
other side of England. He is out of his place here, and, though men
do not speak against him in my presence, knowing that he is a sort
of kinsman, I have never heard one say a good word for him.

"It is not only because he is a Whig. There are other Whig gentry
in the neighbourhood, against whom I bear no ill will, and can meet
at a social board in friendship. It would be hard if politics were
to stand between neighbours. It is Dormay's manner that is against
him. If he were anyone but Celia's husband, I would say that he is
a smooth-faced knave, though I altogether lack proof of my words,
beyond that he has added half a dozen farms to his estate, and, in
each case, there were complaints that, although there was nothing
contrary to the law, it was by sharp practice that he obtained
possession, lending money freely in order to build houses and
fences and drains, and then, directly a pinch came, demanding the
return of his advance.

"Such ways may pass in a London usurer, but they don't do for us
country folk; and each farm that he has taken has closed the doors
of a dozen good houses to John Dormay. I fear that Celia has a bad
time with him, though she is not one to complain. I let Charlie go
over to Rockley, much oftener than I otherwise should do, for her
sake and Ciceley's, though I would rather, a hundred times, that
they should come here. Not that the visits are pleasant, when they
do come, for I can see that Celia is always in fear, lest I should
ask her questions about her life at home; which is the last thing
that I should think of doing, for no good ever comes of
interference between man and wife, and, whatever I learned, I could
not quarrel with John Dormay without being altogether separated
from Celia and the girl.

"I am heartily glad that Charlie has given Alured a sound
thrashing. The boy is too modest. He only said a few words, last
evening, about the affair, and I thought that only a blow or two
had been exchanged. It was as much as I could do, not to rub my
hands and chuckle, when his father told me all about it. However, I
must speak gravely to Charlie. If he takes it up, every time a Whig
speaks scornfully of the king, he will be