Now I was pretty sure that Rogers’s conduct was simple consistency, and that the difficulty arose from his always acting upon one or two of the plainest principles of truth and right; whereas his wife, good woman—for the bad, old leaven of the Pharisees could not rise much in her somehow—was always reminding him of certain precepts of behaviour to the oblivion of principles. “A bird in the hand,” &c.—“Marry in haste,” &c.—“When want comes in at the door love flies out at the window,” were amongst her favourite sayings; although not one of them was supported by her own experience. For instance, she had married in haste herself, and never, I believe, had once thought of repenting of it, although she had had far more than the requisite leisure for doing so. And many was the time that want had come in at her door, and the first thing it always did was to clip the wings of Love, and make him less flighty, and more tender and serviceable. So I could not even pretend to read her husband a lecture. “He’s a curious man, Old Rogers,” I said. “But as far as I can see, he’s in the right, in the main. Isn’t he now?” “Oh, yes, I daresay. I think he’s always right about the rights of the thing, you know. But a body may go too far that way. It won’t do to starve, sir.” Strange confusion—or, ought I not rather to say?—ordinary and commonplace confusion of ideas! “I don’t think,” I said, “any one can go too far in the right way.” “That’s just what I want my old ’oman to see, and I can’t get it into her, sir. If a thing’s right, it’s right, and if a thing’s wrong, why, wrong it is. The helm must either be to starboard or port, sir.” “But why talk of starving?” I said. “Can’t Dick work? Who could think of starting that nonsense?” “Why, my old ’oman here. She wants ’em to give it up, and wait for better times. The fact is, she don’t want to lose the girl.” “But she hasn’t got her at home now.” “She can have her when she wants her, though—leastways after a bit of warning. Whereas, if she was married, and the consequences a follerin’ at her heels, like a man-o’-war with her convoy, she would find she was chartered for another port, she would.” “Well, you see, sir, Rogers and me’s not so young as we once was, and we’re likely to be growing older every day. And if there’s a difficulty in the way of Jane’s marriage, why, I take it as a Godsend.” “How would you have liked such a Godsend, Mrs Rogers, when you were going to be married to your sailor here? What would you have done?” “Why, whatever he liked to be sure. But then, you see, Dick’s not my Rogers.” “But your daughter thinks about him much in the same way as you did about this dear old man here when he was young.” “Young people may be in the wrong, _I_ see nothing in Dick Brownrigg.” “But young people may be right sometimes, and old people may be wrong sometimes.” “I can’t be wrong about Rogers.” “No, but you may be wrong about Dick.”