just as well as he, I'll warrant,
if she hadn't better things to do; and all her fuss is, that people
should 'appreciate' him. He's always talking about appreciating, till
I hate the sound of the word. How any woman can go on so after a man
that behaves as he does! but we're all soft fools, I'm afraid, Doctor
Thurnall." And Clara began a languishing look or two across the
counter, which made Tom answer to an imaginary Doctor Heale, whom he
heard calling from within.

"Yes, Doctor! coming this moment, Doctor! Good-bye, Miss Clara. I must
hear more next time; you may trust me, you know; secret as the grave,
and always your friend, and your lady's too, if you will allow me to
do myself such an honour. Coming, Doctor!"

And Tom bolted through the glass door, till Miss Clara was safe on her
way up the street.

"Very well," said Tom to himself. "Knowledge is power: but how to use
it? To get into Mrs. Vavasour's confidence, and show an inclination to
take her part against her husband? If she be a true woman, she would
order me out of the house on the spot, as surely as a fish-wife would
fall tooth and nail on me as a base intruder, if I dared to interfere
with her sacred right of being beaten by her husband when she chooses.
No; I must go straight to John Briggs himself, and bind him over to
keep the peace; and I think I know the way to do it."

So Tom pondered over many plans in his head that day; and then went to
Trebooze, and saw the sick child, and sat down to dinner, where his
host talked loud about the Treboozes of Trebooze, who fought in the
Spanish Armada--or against it; and showed an unbounded belief in
the greatness and antiquity of his family, combined with a historic
accuracy about equal to that of a good old dame of those parts, who
used to say "her family comed over the water, that she knew; but
whether it were with the Conqueror, or whether it were wi' Oliver, she
couldn't exactly say!"

Then he became great on the subject of old county families in general,
and poured out all the vials of his wrath on "that confounded upstart
of a Newbroom, Lord Minchampstead," supplanting all the fine old blood
in the country--"Why, sir, that Pentremochyn, and Carcarrow moors too
(--good shooting there, there used to be), they ought to be mine, sir,
if every man had his rights!" And then followed a long story; and a
confused one withal, for by this time Mr. Trebooze had drunk a great
deal too much wine, and as he became a