d
thing, certainly, to have dear little children of his own. Miss
Thoroughbung felt very certain on the subject, and it would be foolish
for him to doubt. Then he thought of the difference between a pretty
fair haired little boy and that ungrateful pig, Harry Annesley. He told
himself that he was very fond of children. The girls over at the
parsonage would not have said so, but they probably did not know his
character.

When Harry had come back with his fellowship, his uncle had for a few
weeks been very proud of him,--had declared that he should never be
called upon to earn his bread, and had allowed him two hundred and fifty
pounds a year to begin with: but no return had been made to this favor.
Harry had walked in and out of the Hall as though it had already
belonged to him,--as many a father delights to see his eldest son doing.
But the uncle in this instance had not taken any delight in seeing it.
An uncle is different from a father,--an uncle who has never had a child
of his own. He wanted deference,--what he would have called respect;
while Harry was at first prepared to give him a familiar affection based
on equality,--on an equality in money matters and worldly
interests,--though I fear that Harry allowed to be seen his own
intellectual superiority. Mr. Prosper, though an ignorant man, and by no
means clever, was not such a fool as not to see all this. Then had come
the persistent refusal to hear the sermons, and Mr. Prosper had
sorrowfully declared to himself that his heir was not the young man that
he should have been.

He did not then think of marrying, nor did he stop the allowance; but he
did feel that his heir was not what he should have been. But then the
terrible disgrace of that night in London had occurred, and his eyes
had been altogether opened by that excellent young man, Mr. Augustus
Scarborough; then he began to look about him. Then dim ideas of the
charms and immediate wealth of Miss Thoroughbung flitted before his
eyes, and he told himself again and again of the prospects and undoubted
good birth of Miss Puffle. Miss Puffle had disgraced herself, and
therefore he had thrown Buston Hall at the feet of Miss Thoroughbung.

But now he had heard stories about that "excellent young man, Augustus
Scarborough," which had shaken his faith. He had been able to exclaim
indignantly that Harry Annesley had told a lie. "A lie!" He had been
surprised to find that a young man who had lived so much in the
f