e's old, but two thousand pound's a good bit, you see, Mr Morgan. And
we'll get the 'Clavering Arms' for a very little; and that'll be no bad
thing when the railroad runs through Clavering. And when we are there, I
hope you'll come and see us, Mr. Morgan."

"It's a stoopid place, and no society," said Mr. Morgan. "I know it
well. In Mrs Pendennis's time we used to go down, reg'lar, and the hair
refreshed me after the London racket."

"The railroad will improve Mr. Arthur's property," remarked Lightfoot.
"What's about the figure of it, should you say, sir?"

"Under fifteen hundred, sir," answered Morgan; at which the other, who
knew the extent of poor Arthur's acres, thrust his tongue in his cheek,
but remained wisely silent.

"Is his man any good, Mr. Morgan?" Lightfoot resumed.

"Pidgeon ain't used to society as yet; but he's young and has good
talents, and has read a good deal, and I dessay he will do very well,"
replied Morgan. "He wouldn't quite do for this kind of thing, Lightfoot,
for he ain't seen the world yet."

When the pint of sherry for which Mr. Lightfoot called, upon Mr.
Morgan's announcement that he eclined to drink spirits, had been
discussed by the two gentlemen, who held the wine up to the light,
and smacked their lips, and winked their eyes at it, and rallied the
landlord as to the vintage, in the most approved manner of connoisseurs,
Morgan's ruffled equanimity was quite restored, and he was prepared to
treat his young friend with perfect good-humour.

"What d'you think about Miss Amory, Lightfoot--tell us in confidence,
now--Do you think we should do well--you understand--if we make Miss A.
into Mrs. A. P., comprendy vous?"

"She and her Ma's always quarrellin'," said Mr. Lightfoot. "Bonner
is more than a match for the old lady, and treats Sir Francis like
that--like this year spill, which I fling into the grate. But she
daren't say a word to Miss Amory. No more dare none of us. When a
visitor comes in, she smiles and languishes, you'd think that butter
wouldn't melt in her mouth: and the minute he is gone, very likely, she
flares up like a little demon, and says things fit to send you wild. If
Mr. Arthur comes, it's 'Do let's sing that there delightful Song!' or,
'Come and write me them pooty verses in this halbum!' and very likely
she's been a-rilin' her mother, or sticking pins into her maid, a minute
before. She do stick pins into her and pinch her. Mary Hann showed me
one of her arms q