y was aware that a great
passion ought to be made to lead to a snug house, half a dozen
children, and a proper, church-going, roast-mutton, duty-doing manner
of life. Now Ontario Moggs had very wild ideas. As for the gasfitter
he danced well and was good-looking, but he had very little to say
for himself. When Polly saw Ralph Newton,--especially when he sat out
on the lawn with them and smoked cigars on his second coming,--she
thought him very nice. She had no idea of being patronised by any
one, and she was afraid of persons whom she called "stuck-up" ladies
and gentlemen. But Mr. Newton had not patronised her, and she had
acknowledged that he was--very nice. Such as she was, she was the
idol of her father's heart and the apple of his eye. If she had asked
him to give up measuring, he might have yielded. But then his Polly
was too wise for that.

We must say a word more of Mrs. Neefit, and then we shall hope that
our readers will know the family. She had been the daughter of a
breeches-maker, to whom Neefit had originally been apprenticed,--and
therefore regarded herself as the maker of the family. But in truth
the business, such as it was now in its glory, had been constructed
by her husband, and her own fortune had been very small. She was a
stout, round-faced, healthy, meaningless woman, in whom ill-humour
would not have developed itself unless idleness,--that root of all
evil,--had fallen in her way. As it was, in the present condition of
their lives, she did inflict much discomfort on poor Mr. Neefit. Had
he been ill, she would have nursed him with all her care. Had he
died, she would have mourned for him as the best of husbands. Had he
been three parts ruined in trade, she would have gone back to Conduit
Street and made beef-steak puddings almost without a murmur. She was
very anxious for his Sunday dinner,--and would have considered it to
be a sin to be without a bit of something nice for his supper. She
took care that he always wore flannel, and would never let him stay
away from church,--lest worse should befall him. But she couldn't let
him be quiet. What else was there left for her to do but to nag him?
Polly, who was with her during the long hours of the day, would not
be nagged. "Now, mamma!" she'd say with a tone of authority that
almost overcame mamma. And if mamma was very cross, Polly would
escape. But during the long hours of the night the breeches-maker
could not escape;--and in minor matters the au