e and made a mess of it. It's hard upon me, for I don't
know that I ever saw the young man in my life."

"I believe that fellow is a scamp," said the doctor.

"I hope not," said Mr. Comfort, thinking of Rachel and her hopes.

"We all hope he isn't, of course," said the doctor. "But we can't
prevent men being scamps by hoping. There are other scamps in
this town in whom, if my hoping would do any good, a very great
change would be made."--Everybody present knew that the doctor
alluded especially to Mr. Prong, whose condition, however, if the
doctor's hopes could have been carried out, would not have been
enviable.--"But I fear this fellow Rowan is a scamp, and I think he
has treated Tappitt badly. Tappitt told me all about it only this
morning."

"Audi alteram partem," said Mr. Comfort.

"The scamp's party you mean," said the doctor. "I haven't the means
of doing that. If in this world we suspend our judgment till we've
heard all that can be said on both sides of every question, we should
never come to any judgment at all. I hear that he's in debt; I
believe he behaved very badly to Tappitt himself, so that Tappitt
was forced to use personal violence to defend himself; and he has
certainly threatened to open a new brewery here. Now that's bad, as
coming from a young man related to the old firm."

"I think he should leave the brewery alone," said Mr. Comfort.

"Of course he should," said the doctor. "And I hear, moreover, that
he is playing a wicked game with a girl in your parish."

"I don't know about a wicked game," said the other. "It won't be a
wicked game if he marries her."

Then Rachel's chances of matrimonial success were discussed with
a degree of vigour which must have been felt by her to be highly
complimentary, had she been aware of it. But I grieve to say that
public opinion, as expressed in Dr. Harford's dining-room, went
against Luke Rowan. Mr. Tappitt was not a great man, either as a
citizen or as a brewer: he was not one to whom Baslehurst would even
rejoice to raise a monument; but such as he was he had been known for
many years. No one in that room loved or felt for him anything like
real friendship; but the old familiarity of the place was in his
favour, and his form was known of old upon the High Street. He was
not a drunkard, he lived becomingly with his wife, he had paid his
way, and was a fellow-townsman. What was it to Dr. Harford, or
even to Mr. Comfort, that he brewed bad beer? No ma