"And you will have a general servant, eh, with large and fiery hands--like Cornelia downstairs? Only she'll look worse than Cornelia, because your wife will dress her up in muslins and streamers, and try to disguise the _generality_. If you work in the front of your pretty little house, your nervous system 'll be shattered by the shrieks of your neighbours' children swinging on the gates--forty-pound-a-year houses in the suburbs are infested with children; nothing seems to exterminate them, and the inevitable gates groan like souls in hell--and if you choose the back, you'll be assisted by the arrival of the joint, and the vegetables, and the slap of the milk-cans, and Cornelia the Second's altercations with the errand-boys. A general servant with a tin pail alone is warranted to make herself heard for eleven hundred and sixty yards." "Life hasn't made an optimist of you," observed Kent, less cheerfully, "that you clack about 'happy endings'!" "The optimist is like the poet--he's born, he _isn't_ made. Speaking of life, I suppose you'll assure yours when you marry?" "Yes," said Kent meditatively; "yes, that's a good idea. I shall.... But your suggestions are none of them too exhilarating," he added; "let's go to dinner!" The sub-editor put on his jacket and sought his boots. "I'm ready," he announced. "By the way, I never thought to inquire: Mrs. Walford hasn't a large family, has she?" "A son as well, that's all. Why?" "I congratulate you," said Turquand; it was the first time the word had passed his lips. "It's a truism to say that a man should never marry; anybody; but if he must blunder with someone, let him choose an only child! Marrying into a large family's more expensive still. His wife has for ever got a sister having a wedding, or a christening, or a birthday and wanting a present; or a brother asking for a loan, or dying and plunging her into costly crape. Yes, I congratulate you." Humphrey expressed no thanks, and he determined to avoid the subject of his engagement as much as possible in their conversations hence-forward. He was due at The Hawthorns the following afternoon at five o'clock, and his impatience to see the girl again was intensified by the knowledge that he was about to see her in her home. The day was tedious. In the morning it was showery, and he was chagrined to think that he was doomed to enter the drawing-room in muddy shoes; but after lunch the sky cleared, and when he reached Victoria the pavements were dry. The train started late, and travelled slowly; but he heard a porter bawling "Stretta Mill!" on the welcome platform at last, and, making the station's acquaintance with affectionate eyes, he hastened up the steps, and in the direction of the house. He was prepossessed by its exterior, and his anticipations were confirmed on entering the hall.