ble bickerings had gone on. Sally had not the sense to
desist, where the pursuit of the topic could avail nothing, nor
Jonas the kindliness to make her a present which might moderate her
sense of having been unjustly treated.

He had been obliged to employ his sister, and yet he suspected, not
without cause, that she took away from his house such scraps of
food and pots and pipkins as were not likely to be missed. The
woman justified her conduct to herself by the argument that she was
inadequately paid in coin, and that she was forced to pilfer in
order to recoup herself for the outlay of time and muscle in her
brother's habitation. Thomas Rocliffe was a quiet, harmless old
man, crushed not only by the derision which had clung to him like a
robe of Nessus ever since his escapade with the Countess Charlotte,
but also by the weight of his wife's tongue. He had sought peace
by non-resistance, and this had encouraged her to violence, and had
removed the only possible check to her temper. He was not a clever
man. Most people thought him soft. His son Samuel was stupid and
sullen, rendered both by his mother's treatment from infancy.
Thomas had not sufficient intelligence and spontaneity to make a
struggle to overcome his embarrassments, and force himself a way
out of his difficulties. Instead of the debt that hampered him
being gradually reduced, as it might have been by a man with
energy, it had increased. Nothing had been spent on the house since
the debt had been first contracted, and it was not water-tight.
Nothing had been done to the land to dress it, to increase the
stock, to open up another spring of revenue. When a bad year came
the family fell into actual distress. When a good year ensued no
margin was left to serve as a provision for one less favorable.

Mehetabel, pleased that her husband had put no hindrance in the
way of a christening feast, had begrudged none of the necessary
expense, was active and skilful in the preparation of cakes and
pies.

To the church she had to go, so as to be churched immediately
before the baptism, and Jonas remained at home, as he said, to
see that no one broke in and carried off the good things. Never,
within the memory of the oldest inhabitant of the Punch-Bowl;
never, it may safely be asserted, since the Punch-Bowl had been
formed, had there been seen a table so spread as that in the Kink's
farmhouse on the day of the christening, and whilst the party was
at the church. In