"No, George, the man the doctor told us about who is so dangerously ill is called Monk." "I am glad to hear it; but he doesn't belong to our parish, though he lives so close. He is actually in Rood Warren. His cottage is at the other side of the Common." "Then we can leave the wine and things as we go. And, George, while the boys are having tea with Aunt Eleanour, I think I shall drive on to Quarley Beacon and try and persuade Cecilia to come back and spend the night with us. I think we could manage to put her up in the little blue dressing-room. She is so good-natured; she won't mind its being so small." "Yes, do; I want Lyndsay to see her. And give my best love to Aunt Eleanour, and say that if she is going to send me any more tracts against Popery, I should be extremely obliged if she would prepay the postage sufficiently." "Oh no, George, I could not. It was only threepence." "Well, then, tell her it is no good sending any at all, because I have made up my mind to go over to Rome next July." "No, George; she might not like it, and I don't believe you are going to do anything of the kind. Oh, are you off already? I thought you would settle something about the plasterer." "No, no; I can't think of plasterers and repairs to-day. Even the galley-slave has his holiday--this is mine. I am going to see the hounds throw off at Rood Acre, and forget for one day that I have an inch of landed property in the world." "But, George, if the pink-room ceiling is not put right by Saturday, where shall we put Uncle Augustus?" "Into the room just opposite to Lindy's." "What! that little room? In the bachelor's passage? A man of his age, and of his position!" "I am sure it is large enough for any one under a bishop. Besides, I don't think he is fussy about anything except his dinner." "It is not the way he is accustomed to be treated when he is on a visit, I can assure you. He is a person who is generally considered a great deal." "Well, I consider him a great deal. I consider him one of the finest old heathen I ever knew." Fortunately for their domestic peace, Lady Atherley usually misses the points of her husband's speeches, but there are some which jar upon her sense of the becoming, and this was one of them.