shabby old phaeton with defective springs.”

“My dear, you are doing her injustice,” said Mrs Mitford, with severe loftiness. “She is rather frivolous, I fear; but still, you may be sure Kate understands that to have the Doctor to drive her, and tell her all about the country, is what very few people attain.”

To this speech John made no reply. The carriage was out of sight, and even the dust it had raised had dropped peacefully to earth again; but still the young man stood with a dissatisfied face. “I could have taken her for a walk, and she would have liked it better,” he said—“at least I should have liked it better; and I am sure she does not want such a fuss made over her, mamma.”

“You{107} would have liked it better!” said Mrs Mitford. “Oh, my dear, dear boy! did you hear what she said this morning, John, about a clergyman’s wife?”

{107}

“Yes.”

“And yesterday what a tirade about clergymen! She made me half angry. As if your papa would have been a better man had he not married me!”

“I don’t think that was what she meant,” said John. “My father—is—different. One does not think of him, nor of what is. One thinks of what is to be.”

“Then, perhaps, you agree with her, and think clergymen should not marry?” said Mrs Mitford, with a little heat. “Oh John! if you were to turn out a Ritualist, I think it would break my heart.”

“I don’t intend to turn out an anythingist,” said John, shutting his face up into an obstinate blank which his mother knew. She gave a sigh, and shook her head, and once more softly stroked his arm.

“And since we are speaking of this,” she said, sinking her voice, and smoothing down his sleeve more and more tenderly, with her{108} eyes fixed on it, as if that was the object of her thoughts, “I have one little word to say to you, John—just one word. My dear boy! you are very young, and you don’t know the world, nor the ways of girls. She is very pretty, and winning, and all that; but I would not put myself too much at her service, if I were you. It might not be good for yourself—and it might put things in her head.”

{108}

“Put things in her head,” echoed poor John. “O mother, mother! as if she would care 

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