heepish by your mother and by your father, my dear, says I to
myself, I ain't a marrying man: and if these two, says I, if any progeny
comes to 'em--to bless them, some people'd say, but I know what life is,
and what young ones are--if--where was I? Liquor makes you talk, brother
William John, but where's your ideas? Gone, like hard cash! What I meant
was, I felt I might some day come for'ard and help the issue of your
wife's weddin', and wasn't such a shady object among you, after all. My
pipe's out."

Rhoda stood up, and filled the pipe, and lit it in silence. She divined
that the old man must be allowed to run on in his own way, and for a long
time he rambled, gave a picture of the wedding, and of a robbery of
Boyne's Bank: the firm of Boyne, Burt, Hamble, and Company. At last, he
touched on Dahlia.

"What she wants, I can't make out," he said; "and what that good lady
there, or somebody, made mention of--how she manages to dress as she do!
I can understand a little goin' a great way, if you're clever in any way;
but I'm at my tea"--Anthony laid his hand out as to exhibit a picture. "I
ain't a complaining man, and be young, if you can, I say, and walk about
and look at shops; but, I'm at my tea: I come home rather tired there's
the tea-things, sure enough, and tea's made, and, maybe, there's a shrimp
or two; she attends to your creature comforts. When everything's locked
up and tight and right, I'm gay, and ask for a bit of society: well, I'm
at my tea: I hear her foot thumping up and down her bed-room overhead: I
know the meaning of that: I'd rather hear nothing: down she runs: I'm at
my tea, and in she bursts."--Here followed a dramatic account of Dahlia's
manner of provocation, which was closed by the extinction of his pipe.

The farmer, while his mind still hung about thousands of pounds and a
certain incomprehensible division of them to produce a distinct
intelligible total, and set before him the sum of Anthony's riches, could
see that his elder daughter was behaving flightily and neglecting the
true interests of the family, and he was chagrined. But Anthony, before
he entered the house, had assured him that Dahlia was well, and that
nothing was wrong with her. So he looked at Mrs. Sumfit, who now took
upon herself to plead for Dahlia: a young thing, and such a handsome
creature! and we were all young some time or other; and would heaven have
mercy on us, if we were hard upon the young, do you think? The motto