But one thing there is which the cleverest fellows can learn by no experience--how to carry the head for hours upside down without hurting it. How to make the brain so hard that it cannot shift; or else so soft that the top is as good as the bottom. The question is one for a great physician; who, to understand it, must keep his row, and pick by the job. Then let him say if he has learned how to explain the well-established fact that a woman can pick twice as fast as a man; for who could assent to the reason assigned by one of themselves magnanimously--that “women was generally always used to keep their heads turned upside down”? Leaving such speculative inquiries to go on for ever, Hilary (who knew better than to say a word about them) came in for his breakfast at six o’clock, and ate it as thoroughly as he had earned it. The master, a man of true Kentish fibre, obstinate, placable, hearty, and dry, made known to his wife and to everybody else his present opinion of Hilary. Martin Lovejoy never swore. He never went beyond “God knows,” or “The Lord in heaven look down on us,” or some other good exclamation, sanctioned by the parish vicar. As a general rule--proved by many exceptions--the Kentish men seldom swear very hard. “Heart alive, young sir!” he exclaimed, piling Hilary’s plate, as he spoke, with the jellied delights of cold pigeon pie; “you have been the best man of the morning. Ah! don’t you be in a hurry, good wife. No tea or coffee our way, thank ye. No, nor any cask-wash. We’ve worked a little too hard for that. Mabel, whatever has come to you, that you keep always out of the way so? And I never saw you anigh the baskets. Now don’t pipe your eye, child. I’m not going to scold thee, if thou didst have a little lie-a-bed. Here, take this here key, child. A wink’s as good as a nod--ah, she knows pretty well what to do with it.”