'One might have had a harder life,' mused Mr. Hood aloud, when the pitmen were gone by. 'I think there's a fallacy in that,' replied Emily. 'Their life is probably not hard at all. I used to feel that pity, but I have reasoned myself out of it. They are really happy, for they know nothing of their own degradation.' 'By the bye,' said her father presently, 'how is young Mr. Athel, the young fellow who had to come home from college?' 'He is quite well again, I think,' was Emily's reply. 'I suppose, poor fellow, he has a very weak constitution?' 'Oh no, I think not.' 'What is he studying for? Going into the Church?' Emily laughed; it was a relief to do so. 'Isn't it strange,' she said, 'how we construct an idea of an unknown person from some circumstance or piece of description? I see exactly what your picture of Mr. Athel is: a feeble and amiable young man, most likely with the shocking voice with which curates sometimes read the lessons--' She broke off and laughed again. 'Well,' said her father, 'I admit I thought of him a little in that way--I scarcely know why.' 'You could hardly have been further from the truth. Try to imagine the intellectual opposite of such a young man, and you--That will be far more like Mr. Athel.' 'He isn't conceited? My want of experience has an unfortunate tendency to make me think of young fellows in his position as unbearably vain. It must be so hard to avoid it.' 'Perhaps it is, if they have the common misfortune to be born without brains.' Other subjects engaged their attention. 'When do you take your holiday, father?' Emily asked. 'I think about the middle of this month. It won't be more than a week or ten days.' 'Don't you think you ought to go to Cleethorpes, if only for a day or two?' To suggest any other place of summer retreat would have been too alarming. Mr. Hood's defect of imagination was illustrated in this matter; he had been somehow led, years ago, to pay a visit to Cleethorpes, and since then that one place represented for him the seaside. Others might be just as accessible and considerably more delightful, but it did not even occur to him to vary. It would have cost him discomfort to do so, the apprehension of entering upon the unknown. The present was the third summer which had passed without his quitting home. Anxiety troubled his countenance as Emily made the proposal. 'Not this year, I think,' he said, as if desirous of passing the subject by. 'Father, what possible objection can there be to my bearing the expense of a week at Cleethorpes? You know how well I can afford it; indeed I should like to go; it is rather unkind of you to refuse.'