uld be home to tea?

"I think Guy and Walter never do come home in time when they go over to
the manor-house."

"They're young--let them enjoy themselves," said the father, smiling.
"And you know, love, of all our 'fine' friends, there are none you so
heartily approve of as the Oldtowers."

These were not of the former race. Good old Sir Ralph had gone to his
rest, and Sir Herbert reigned in his stead; Sir Herbert, who in his
dignified gratitude never forgot a certain election day, when he first
made the personal acquaintance of Mr. Halifax. The manor-house family
brought several other "county families" to our notice, or us to theirs.
These, when John's fortunes grew rapidly--as many another fortune grew,
in the beginning of the thirty years' peace, when unknown, petty
manufacturers first rose into merchant princes and cotton lords--these
gentry made a perceptible distinction, often amusing enough to us,
between John Halifax, the tanner of Norton Bury, and Mr. Halifax, the
prosperous owner of Enderley Mills. Some of them, too, were clever
enough to discover, what a pleasant and altogether "visitable" lady was
Mrs. Halifax, daughter of the late Mr. March, a governor in the West
Indies, and cousin of Mr. Brithwood of the Mythe. But Mrs. Halifax,
with quiet tenacity, altogether declined being visited as anything but
Mrs. Halifax, wife of John Halifax, tanner, or mill-owner, or whatever
he might be. All honours and all civilities that did not come through
him, and with him, were utterly valueless to her.

To this her peculiarity was added another of John's own, namely, that
all his life he had been averse to what is called "society;" had
eschewed "acquaintances,"--and--but most men might easily count upon
their fingers the number of those who, during a life-time, are found
worthy of the sacred name of "friend." Consequently, our circle of
associations was far more limited than that of many families holding an
equal position with us--on which circumstance our neighbours commented
a good deal. But little we cared; no more than we had cared for the
chit-chat of Norton Bury. Our whole hearts were bound up within our
own home--our happy Longfield.

"I do think this place is growing prettier than ever," said John, when,
tea being over--a rather quiet meal, without a single child--we elders
went out again to the walnut-tree bench. "Certainly, prettier than
ever;" and his eye wandered over the quaint, low house, all o