license to offend; and I would not repair the stocks, because that puts
it into people's heads to get into them."

The squire was a stanch politician of the old school, and he did
not like to think that, in repairing the stocks, he had perhaps been
conniving at revolutionary principles.

"This constant desire of innovation," said Miss Jemima, suddenly
mounting the more funereal of her two favourite hobbies, "is one of the
great symptoms of the approaching crash. We are altering and mending and
reforming, when in twenty years at the utmost the world itself may
be destroyed!" The fair speaker paused, and Captain Barnabas said
thoughtfully, "Twenty years!--the insurance officers rarely compute the
best life at more than fourteen." He struck his hand on the stocks as he
spoke, and added, with his usual consolatory conclusion, "The odds are
that it will last our time, Squire."

But whether Captain Barnabas meant the stocks or the world he did not
clearly explain, and no one took the trouble to inquire.

"Sir," said Master Frank to his father, with that furtive spirit of
quizzing, which he had acquired amongst other polite accomplishments at
Eton,--"sir, it is no use now considering whether the stocks should or
should not have been repaired. The only question is, whom you will get
to put into them."

"True," said the squire, with much gravity.

"Yes, there it is!" said the parson, mournfully. "If you would but learn
'non quieta movere'!"

"Don't spout your Latin at me, Parson," cried the squire, angrily; "I
can give you as good as you bring, any day.

"'Propria quae maribus tribuuntur mascula dicas.--
As in praesenti, perfectum format in avi.'

"There," added the squire, turning triumphantly towards his Harry, who
looked with great admiration at this unprecedented burst of learning on
the part of Mr. Hazeldean,--"there, two can play at that game! And now
that we have all seen the stocks, we may as well go home and drink tea.
Will you come up and play a rubber, Dale? No! hang it, man, I've not
offended you?--you know my ways."

"That I do, and they are among the things I would not have altered,"
cried the parson, holding out his hand cheerfully. The squire gave it a
hearty shake, and Mrs. Hazeldean hastened to do the same.

"Do come; I am afraid we've been very rude: we are sad blunt folks. Do
come; that's a dear good man; and of course poor Mrs. Dale too." Mrs.
Hazeldean's favourite epithet for Mrs. Dale