whether or no he should
find the vicar at Babington. Since their marriage, Mr. Smirkie had spent
much of his time at Babington, and seemed to like the Babington claret.
He would come about the middle of the week and return on the Saturday
evening, in a manner which the squire could hardly reconcile with all
that he had heard as to Mr. Smirkie's exemplary conduct in his own
parish. The squire was hospitality itself, and certainly would never
have said a word to make his house other than pleasant to his own girl's
husband. But a host expects that his corns should be respected, whereas
Mr. Smirkie was always treading on Mr. Babington's toes. Hints had been
given to him as to his personal conduct which he did not take altogether
in good part. His absence from afternoon service had been alluded to,
and it had been suggested to him that he ought sometimes to be more
careful as to his language. He was not, therefore ill-disposed to resent
on the part of Mr. Smirkie the spirit of persecution with which that
gentleman seemed to regard his nephew. 'Is Mr. Smirkie in the house,' he
asked the coachman. 'He came by the 3.40, as usual,' said the man. It
was very much 'as usual,' thought the squire.

'There isn't a doubt about it,' said the squire to his wife as he was
dressing. 'The poor fellow is as innocent as you.'

'He can't be,--innocent,' said aunt Polly.

'If he never married the woman whom they say he married he can't be
guilty.'

'I don't know about that, my dear.'

'He either did marry her or he didn't, I suppose.'

'I don't say he married her, but,--he did worse.'

'No, he didn't,' said the squire.

'That may be your way of thinking of it. According to my idea of what
is right and what is wrong, he did a great deal worse.'

'But if he didn't marry that woman he didn't commit bigamy when he
married this one,' argued he, energetically.

'Still he may have deserved all he got.'

'No; he mayn't. You wouldn't punish a man for murder because he doesn't
pay his debts.'

'I won't have it that he's innocent,' said Mrs. Babington.

'Who the devil is, if you come to that?'

'You are not, or you wouldn't talk in that way. I'm not saying anything
now against John. If he didn't marry the woman I suppose they'll let him
out of prison, and I for one shall be willing to take him by the hand;
but to say he's innocent is what I won't put up with!'

'He has sown his wild oats, and he's none the worse for that. He's as
good