and will say nothing. But, my dear Conrad, for you are
always my son, and will remain so, whatever your language may be, do
you, my dear Conrad, do you really sanction the attitude of a young
lady who refuses to marry--public and private don't come into the
matter--because of a groundless antipathy? For it is admitted on all
hands that Mrs. Julius Bradshaw is a person of rather superior class."

"She's Mrs. Bradshaw--not Mrs. Julius. But what makes you suppose
Tishy Wilson objects to her?"

"My dear Conrad, you know as well as I do that is a mere
prevarication. Why evade the point? But in my opinion you do wisely
not to attempt any defence of Laetitia Wilson. It may be true that
she has not laid herself open to misconstruction in this case, but
the lack of good feeling is to all intents and purposes the same
as if she had; and I must say, my dear Conrad, I am surprised
that a professional man with your qualifications should undertake
to justify her."

"But Miss Wilson hasn't _done_ anything! What are you wigging away
at her for, mother dear?"

"Have I not expressly said that she has done nothing whatever? Of
course she has not, and, I hope, never will. But it is easy for you,
Conrad, to take refuge in a fact which I have been scrupulously
careful to admit from the very beginning. And 'wigging away!' What
language!"

"Never mind the language, mother darling! Tell me what it's all
about." Tired as he is, he gets up from the chair he has not been
smoking in (because this is the drawing-room) to go round and kiss
what is probably the fatty integument of a very selfish old woman,
but which he believes to be that of an affectionate mother. "What's
it all about?" he repeats.

"My dear Conrad! Is it not a little unfeeling to ask me what it is
all about when you know?"

"I _don't_ know, mother dear. I can do any amount of guessing, but
I don't _know_."

"I think, my dear, if you will light my candle and ring for Craddock
to shut up, that I had better go to bed." Which her son does, but
perversely abstains from giving the old lady any assistance to saying
what is in her mind to say.

But she did not intend to be baffled. For when he had piloted her to
her state apartment, carrying her candle, under injunctions on no
account to spill the grease, and a magazine of wraps and wools and
unintelligible sundries, she contrived to invest an elucidation of
her ideas with an appearance of benevolence by working in a readiness