“It shall be done, before the van goes--by the very next mail, I mean. And if they can spare you, do you think that you could put up with your very poor quarters, for a few days longer, Mr. Lorraine?” “I never was in such quarters before. And I never felt so comfortable,” he answered, with a gush of truth, to expiate much small hypocrisy. And thereby he settled himself for ever in her very best graces. If Mrs. Lovejoy had any pride--and she always told herself she had none--that pride lay in her best feather-beds. A smile quite worthy of her larger husband, and of her pleasant homestead, spread itself over her thoughtful face; and Hilary, for the first time, saw that her daughter, after all, was born of her. What can be sweeter than a smile, won from a sensible woman like that? “Then you give us some hope that we may endeavour to keep you a few days more, sir?” “The endeavour will be on my part,” he answered with his most elegant bow; “as all the temptation falls on me.” “I do hope that Mr. Malahide will do his best to spare you both. Though to lose both his right hand and his left hand must be very melancholy.” “To a lawyer, Mrs. Lovejoy, that is nothing. We think nothing of such trifles. We are ready to fight when we have no hands, nor even a leg to stand upon.” “Yes, to be sure, you live by fighting, as the poor sailors and soldiers do. The general of the attorneys now is my first cousin, once removed. Now can you tell me what opinion he has formed of my Gregory? Of course there must be a number of people trying to keep my poor boy back. Pressing him down, as they always do, with all that narrow jealousy. But his mother’s cousin might be trusted to give him fair play, now, don’t you think?” “One never can tell,” answered Hilary; “the faster a young fellow goes up the tree, the harder the monkeys pelt him. But if I only had a quarter of your son’s ability, I would defy them all at once, from the Lord Chief-Justice downward.” “Oh no, now, Mr. Lorraine; that really would be bad advice. He has not been called to the Bar as yet; and he must remember that there are people many years in front of him. No, no; let Gregory wait for his proper time in its proper course, and steadily rise to the top of the tree. With patience, Mr. Lorraine, you know, with patience all things come to pass. But I must go to the house at once, and write to Mr. Malahide. Do you think that he would be offended, if I asked him to accept a basket of our choicest cherries and strawberries?” “I scarcely think that he would regard it as a mortal injury; especially if you were to put it as a tribute from his grateful pupil, Hilary Lorraine.” “How kind of you to let me use your name! And you have such influence with him, Gregory is always telling me. No doubt he will accept them so.”