Rufus Hutton said nothing. In spite of all his experience, the scene was very strange to him; and he watched it out with interest, which deepened into strong feeling. “Now, Dr. Hutton”, said the youth, trying to look as he thought he ought, though he could not keep the tears back, “I beg you to think of me no more. Let us have the strictest justice. I have not known you so long—so long as you have known me—but I feel that you would not say what you have said, without the strongest evidence”. “Confound me for a meddlesome fool! My dear boy, no one has heard us. Let us sink the matter entirely. Least said, soonest mended”. “What do you mean? Do you think for a moment that I would be a blackguard”? “Hush!—donʼt get so excited. Why, you look as fierce as Bull Garnet. All I mean is—you know the old saying—ʼQuieta non movere’”. “The motto of fools and dastards. ‘Have it out’, is an Englishmanʼs rule. No sneaking tricks for me, sir. Oh, what a fool I am! I beg your pardon with all my heart; you will make allowances for me. Instead of being rude, I ought to be grateful for kindness which even involves your honour”. And he held out his hand to the doctor. “Crad, my dear boy”, exclaimed Mr. Hutton, with a big tear twinkling in each little eye, “the finest thing I ever did was showing you to the daylight. If I rob you of what has appeared your birthright, curse all memorandum–books, and even my metrostigmatic treatise, which I fully meant to immortalize me”. “And so I hope it may do. I am not so calm as I ought to be. Somehow a fellow canʼt be, when he is taken off the hooks so. I know you will allow for this; I beg you to allow for nothing else, except a gentlemanʼs delicacy. Give me your reasons, or not, as you like. The matter will be for my father”. Cradock looked proud and beautiful. But the depth of his eyes was troubled. A thousand thoughts were moving there, like the springs that feed a lake. “Hah, ho, very hard work”! said Rufus Hutton, puffing; “I vote that we adjourn. I do love the open air so, ever since I took to gardening”. Rufus Hutton hated “sentiment”, but he could not always get rid of it. CHAPTER XV. On the morning of that same day, our Amy at her fatherʼs side, in the pretty porch of the Rectory, uttered the following wisdom: “Darling Papples, Papelikidion—is there any other diminutivicle half good enough for you, or stupid enough for me?—my own father (thatʼs best of all), you must not ride Coræbus to–day”. “Amy amata, peramata a me, aim of my life, amicula, in the name of sweet sense, why not”? “Because, pa, he has had ten great long carrots, and my best hat full of new oats; and I know he will throw you off”.