nough to turn in,
an' niver get a fresh egg for his breakfast, an' sleep up three pair o'
stairs--or four, for what I know--an' be burnt to death before he can
get down."

"No, no," said Mr. Tulliver; "I've no thoughts of his going to Mudport:
I mean him to set up his office at St. Ogg's, close by us, an' live at
home. I doubt Tom's a bit slowish. He takes after your family, Bessy."

"Yes, that he does," said Mrs. Tulliver; "he's wonderful for liking a
deal o' salt in his broth. That was my brother's way, and my father's
before him."

"It seems a bit of a pity, though," said Mr. Tulliver, "as the lad
should take after the mother's side instead o' the little wench. The
little un takes after my side, now: she's twice as 'cute as Tom."

"Yes, Mr. Tulliver, and it all runs to naughtiness. How to keep her in
a clean pinafore two hours together passes my cunning. An' now you put
me i' mind," continued Mrs. Tulliver, rising and going to the window,
"I don't know where she is now, an' it's pretty nigh tea-time. Ah, I
thought so--there she is, wanderin' up an' down by the water, like a
wild thing. She'll tumble in some day."

Mrs. Tulliver rapped the window sharply, beckoned, and shook her head.

"You talk o' 'cuteness, Mr. Tulliver," she said as she sat down; "but
I'm sure the child's very slow i' some things, for if I send her
upstairs to fetch anything, she forgets what she's gone for."

"Pooh, nonsense!" said Mr. Tulliver. "She's a straight, black-eyed
wench as anybody need wish to see; and she can read almost as well as
the parson."

"But her hair won't curl, all I can do with it, and she's so franzy
about having it put i' paper, and I've such work as never was to make
her stand and have it pinched with th' irons."

"Cut it off--cut it off short," said the father rashly.

"How can you talk so, Mr. Tulliver? She's too big a gell--gone nine,
and tall of her age--to have her hair cut short.--Maggie, Maggie,"
continued the mother, as the child herself entered the room, "where's
the use o' my telling you to keep away from the water? You'll tumble
in and be drownded some day, and then you'll be sorry you didn't do as
mother told you."

Maggie threw off her bonnet. Now, Mrs. Tulliver, desiring her daughter
to have a curled crop, had had it cut too short in front to be pushed
behind the ears; and as it was usually straight an hour after it had
been taken out of paper, Maggie was incessantly tossing he