the text about the quiver you know; and I tell them that
when they've eat up all the butter, they'll have to take their bread
dry."

"I trust the young people take your teaching in the proper spirit."

"I don't know much about spirit. There's spirit enough. My second
girl, Lucy, told me that if I came home to-day without tickets for
the pantomime I shouldn't have any dinner allowed me. That's the way
they treat me. But we understand each other at home. We're all pretty
good friends there, thank God. And there isn't a sick chick among the
boiling."

"You have many mercies for which you should indeed be thankful," said
Mr. Crawley, gravely.

"Yes, yes, yes; that's true. I think of that sometimes, though
perhaps not so much as I ought to do. But the best way to be thankful
is to use the goods the gods provide you. 'The lovely Thais sits
beside you. Take the goods the gods provide you.' I often say that
to my wife, till the children have got to calling her Thais. The
children have it pretty much their own way with us, Mr. Crawley."

By this time Mr. Crawley was almost beside himself, and was altogether
at a loss how to bring in the matter on which he wished to speak. He
had expected to find a man who in the hurry of London business might
perhaps just manage to spare him five minutes,--who would grapple
instantly with the subject that was to be discussed between them,
would speak to him half-a-dozen hard words of wisdom, and would then
dismiss him and turn on the instant to other matters of important
business;--but here was an easy familiar fellow, who seemed to have
nothing on earth to do, and who at this first meeting had taken
advantage of a distant family connexion to tell him everything about
the affairs of his own household. And then how peculiar were the
domestic traits which he told! What was Mr. Crawley to say to a man
who had taught his own children to call their mother Thais? Of Thais
Mr. Crawley did know something, and he forgot to remember that perhaps
Mr. Toogood knew less. He felt it, however, to be very difficult to
submit the details of his case to a gentleman who talked in such a
strain about his own wife and children.

But something must be done. Mr. Crawley, in his present frame of mind,
could not sit and talk about Thais all day. "Sir," he said, "the
picture of your home is very pleasant, and I presume that plenty
abounds there."

"Well, you know, pretty toll-loll for that. With twelve of 'em,