pa'son's
girl then.'

'The fact is, mother,' said Stephen impatiently, 'you don't know
anything about it. I shall never go higher, because I don't want to, nor
should I if I lived to be a hundred. As to you saying that she's after
me, I don't like such a remark about her, for it implies a scheming
woman, and a man worth scheming for, both of which are not only untrue,
but ludicrously untrue, of this case. Isn't it so, father?'

'I'm afraid I don't understand the matter well enough to gie my
opinion,' said his father, in the tone of the fox who had a cold and
could not smell.

'She couldn't have been very backward anyhow, considering the short
time you have known her,' said his mother. 'Well I think that five years
hence you'll be plenty young enough to think of such things. And really
she can very well afford to wait, and will too, take my word. Living
down in an out-step place like this, I am sure she ought to be very
thankful that you took notice of her. She'd most likely have died an old
maid if you hadn't turned up.'

'All nonsense,' said Stephen, but not aloud.

'A nice little thing she is,' Mrs. Smith went on in a more complacent
tone now that Stephen had been talked down; 'there's not a word to say
against her, I'll own. I see her sometimes decked out like a horse going
to fair, and I admire her for't. A perfect little lady. But people can't
help their thoughts, and if she'd learnt to make figures instead of
letters when she was at school 'twould have been better for her pocket;
for as I said, there never were worse times for such as she than now.'

'Now, now, mother!' said Stephen with smiling deprecation.

'But I will!' said his mother with asperity. 'I don't read the papers
for nothing, and I know men all move up a stage by marriage. Men of her
class, that is, parsons, marry squires' daughters; squires marry lords'
daughters; lords marry dukes' daughters; dukes marry queens' daughters.
All stages of gentlemen mate a stage higher; and the lowest stage of
gentlewomen are left single, or marry out of their class.'

'But you said just now, dear mother----' retorted Stephen, unable to
resist the temptation of showing his mother her inconsistency. Then he
paused.

'Well, what did I say?' And Mrs. Smith prepared her lips for a new
campaign.

Stephen, regretting that he had begun, since a volcano might be the
consequence, was obliged to go on.

'You said I wasn't out of her class just before.'

'Yes, t