ff. Quiet, and good air, and people with their intelligence alive.
There is even a library."

"And among these comfortable inhabitants, who would want to be troubled
with me?"

"I think I know. I think I know just the house, where your coming would
be a boon. They are _not_ very well-to-do. I have not asked, but I am
inclined to believe they would be glad to have you."

"Who are they?"

"A household of women. The father and mother are dead; the grandmother
is there yet, and there are three daughters. They are relations of an
old friend of mine, indeed a connection of mine, in the city. So I know
something about them."

"Not the people themselves?"

"Yes, I know the people,--so far as one specimen goes. I fancy they are
people you could get along with."

Mrs. Barclay looked a little scrutinizingly at the young man. His face
revealed nothing, more than a friendly solicitude. But he caught the
look, and broke out suddenly with a change of subject.

"How do you women get along without cigars? What is your substitute?"

"What does the cigar, to you, represent?"

"Soothing and comforting of the nerves--aids to thought--powerful helps
to good humour--something to do--"

"There! now you have it. Philip you are talking nonsense. Your nerves
are as steady and sound as a granite mountain; you can think without
help of any extraneous kind; your good-humour is quite as fair as most
people's; but--you do want something to do! I cannot bear to have you
waste your life in smoke, be it never so fragrant."

"What would you have me do?"

"Anything! so you were hard at work, and _doing_ work."

"There is nothing for me to do."

"That cannot be," said she, shaking her head.

"Propose something."

"You have no need to work for yourself," she said; "so it must be for
other people. Say politics."

"If ever there was anything carried on purely for selfish interests, it
is the business you name."

"The more need for some men to go into it _not_ for self, but for the
country."

"It's a Maelstrom; one would be sure to get drawn in. And it is a dirty
business. You know the proverb about touching pitch."

"It need not be so, Philip."

"It brings one into disgusting contact and associations. My cigar is
better."

"It does nobody any good except the tobacconist. And, Philip, it helps
this habit of careless letting everything go, which you have got into."

"I take care of myself, and of my money," he said.

"Men ought