ld
recommend you to ask the Doctor." By which she meant to assert that Lady
Margaret would not, for the life of her, dare to ask the Doctor such a
question. "He has done what he has thought best."

"Most good-natured, you mean, Mrs. Wortle."

"I mean what I say, Lady Margaret. He has done what he has thought best,
looking at all the circumstances. He thinks that they are very worthy
people, and that they have been most cruelly ill-used. He has taken that
into consideration. You call it good-nature. Others perhaps may call
it--charity." The wife, though she at her heart deplored her husband's
action in the matter, was not going to own to another lady that he had
been imprudent.

"I am sure I hope they will," said Lady Margaret. Then as she was taking
her leave, she made a suggestion. "Some of the boys will be taken away, I
suppose. The Doctor probably expects that."

"I don't know what he expects," said Mrs. Wortle. "Some are always going,
and when they go, others come in their places. As for me, I wish he would
give the school up altogether."

"Perhaps he means it," said Lady Margaret; "otherwise, perhaps he wouldn't
have been so good-natured." Then she took her departure.

When her visitor was gone Mrs. Wortle was very unhappy. She had been
betrayed by her wrath into expressing that wish as to the giving up of the
school. She knew well that the Doctor had no such intention. She herself
had more than once suggested it in her timid way, but the Doctor had
treated her suggestions as being worth nothing. He had his ideas about
Mary, who was undoubtedly a very pretty girl. Mary might marry well, and
L20,000 would probably assist her in doing so.

When he was told of Lady Margaret's hints, he said in his wrath that he
would send young Momson away instantly if a word was said to him by the
boy's mamma. "Of course," said he, "if the lad turns out a scapegrace, as
is like enough, it will be because Mrs. Peacocke had two husbands. It is
often a question to me whether the religion of the world is not more
odious than its want of religion." To this terrible suggestion poor Mrs.
Wortle did not dare to make any answer whatever.

CHAPTER XII.

THE STANTILOUP CORRESPONDENCE.

WE will now pass for a moment out of Bowick parish, and go over to
Buttercup. There, at Buttercup Hall, the squire's house, in the
drawing-room, were assembled Mrs. Momson, the squire's wife; Lady Margaret
Momson, the Rector