nything worse of her. She's
a splendid woman, and her property's neither here nor there. I could
support her."

"I presume," replied his mother, "that she's been used to ways that
ain't like our ways. I've always stuck up for you, Rufus, stiff enough,
I guess; but I ain't agoin' to deny that you're country born and bred. I
can see that, and she can see it, too. It makes a great difference with
girls. I don't know as she'd call you what they call a gentleman."

Dr. Mulbridge flushed angrily. Every American, of whatever standing or
breeding, thinks of himself as a gentleman, and nothing can gall him
more than the insinuation that he is less. "What do you mean, mother?"

"You hain't ever been in such ladies' society as hers in the same way.
I know that they all think the world of you, and flatter you up, and
they're as biddable as you please when you're doctorin' 'em; but I guess
it would be different if you was to set up for one of their own kind
amongst 'em."

"There is n't one of them," he retorted, "that I don't believe I could
have for the turn of my hand, especially if it was doubled into a fist.
They like force."

"Oh, you've only seen the sick married ones. I guess you'll find a well
girl is another thing."

"They're all alike. And I think I should be something of a relief if I
was n't like what she's been used to hearing called a gentleman;
she'd prefer me on that account. But if you come to blood, I guess
the Mulbridges and Gardiner, can hold up their heads with the best,
anywhere."

"Yes, like the Camfers and Rafllins." These were people of ancestral
consequence and local history, who had gone up to Boston from Corbitant,
and had succeeded severally as green-grocers and retail dry-goods men,
with the naturally attendant social distinction.

"Pshaw!" cried her son. "If she cares for me at all, she won't care for
the cut of my clothes, or my table manners."

"Yes, that's so. 'T ain't on my account that I want you should make sure
she doos care."

He looked hard at her immovable face, with its fallen eyes, and then
went out of the room. He never quarrelled with his mother, because
his anger, like her own, was dumb, and silenced him as it mounted. Her
misgivings had stung him deeply, and at the bottom of his indolence and
indifference was a fiery pride, not easily kindled, but unquenchable.
He flung the harness upon his old unkempt horse, and tackled him to the
mud-encrusted buggy, for whose shabbiness