hing on mine," said the Squire, and
leant back in his chair to laugh heartily at his witticism.

The Rector also did justice to it, perhaps more than justice, with a
kind smile. "Well, Edward," he said, "it may be so, but it is,
otherwise, I should say, respectable. It is not like a slum. Has Walter
any particular reason for wishing to go there?"

The Squire gave a grudging summary of the reasons Walter had advanced
for wishing to go there, and made them appear rather ridiculous reasons.
He also produced again such of the arguments he had advanced at
breakfast-time as seemed most weighty, and managed to work himself up
into a fair return of his morning's feeling of being very badly treated.

"Well, Edward," said the Rector gently, when he had come to an end, "I
think if I were you I should not make any objections to Walter's going
to Melbury Park."

"You wouldn't?" asked the Squire, rather weakly.

"No, I don't think I would. You see, my dear Edward, some of us are
inclined to take life too easily. I'm sometimes afraid that I do
myself."

"You do your duty, Tom. Nobody is asked to do more than that."

"Well, you may be right, but I am not sure. However, what I was going to
say was that one cannot help respecting--perhaps even envying--a young
fellow like Walter who doesn't want to take life easily."

"He has stuck to his work," said the Squire. "I will say that for the
boy; and he's never come to me for money to pay bills with, as Humphrey
has, and even Dick--though, as far as Dick goes, he'll have the property
some day, and I don't grudge him what he wants now within reason."

"You see, Edward, when a man has congenial work which takes up his time,
he is not apt to get into mischief. I think, if I may say so, that you
ought to admit now, however much you may have objected to Walter's
choice of a profession in the first instance, that he has justified his
choice. He put his hand to the plough and he has not looked back. That
is a good deal to say for a young man with Walter's temptations towards
an easy, perhaps idle, life."

"Well," said the Squire, "I do admit it. I do admit it, Tom. I have my
natural prejudices, but I'm the last man in the world that any one has a
right to call obstinate. I objected to Walter becoming a doctor in the
first instance. It was natural that I should. He ought to have succeeded
you, as Dick will succeed me. And none of our family have ever been
doctors. But I gave way, and I've