“Jane wasn’t so very ’ard--not the way Macklin used to put ’er,” Humberstall resumed. “I ’ad only six books to remember. I learned the names by ’eart as Macklin placed ’em. There was one, called _Persuasion_, first; an’ the rest in a bunch, except another about some Abbey or other--last by three lengths. But, as I was sayin’, what beat me was there was nothin’ _to_ ’em nor _in_ ’em. Nothin’ at all, believe me.” “You seem good an’ full of ’em, any’ow,” said Anthony. “I mean that ’er characters was no _use_! They was only just like people you run across any day. One of ’em was a curate--the Reverend Collins--always on the make an’ lookin’ to marry money. Well, when I was a Boy Scout, ’im or ’is twin brother was our troop-leader. An’ there was an upstandin’ ’ard-mouthed Duchess or a Baronet’s wife that didn’t give a curse for any one ’oo wouldn’t do what she told ’em to; the Lady--Lady Catherine (I’ll get it in a minute) De Bugg. Before Ma bought the ’airdressin’ business in London I used to know of an ’olesale grocer’s wife near Leicester (I’m Leicestershire myself) that might ’ave been ’er duplicate. And--oh yes--there was a Miss Bates; just an old maid runnin’ about like a hen with ’er ’ead cut off, an’ her tongue loose at both ends. I’ve got an aunt like ’er. Good as gold--but, _you_ know.” “Lord, yes!” said Anthony, with feeling. “An’ did you find out what _Tilniz_ meant? I’m always huntin’ after the meanin’ of things meself.” “Yes, ’e was a swine of a Major-General, retired, and on the make. They’re all on the make, in a quiet way, in Jane. ’E was so much of a gentleman by ’is own estimation that ’e was always be’avin’ like a hound. _You_ know the sort. ’Turned a girl out of ’is own ’ouse because she ’adn’t any money--_after_, mark you, encouragin’ ’er to set ’er cap at his son, because ’e thought she had.” “But that ’appens all the time,” said Anthony. “Why, me own mother----” “That’s right. So would mine. But this Tilney was a man, an’ some’ow Jane put it down all so naked it made you ashamed. I told Macklin that, an’ he said I was shapin’ to be a good Janeite. ’Twasn’t _his_ fault if I wasn’t. ’Nother thing, too; ’avin’ been at the Bath Mineral Waters ’Ospital in ’Sixteen, with trench-feet, was a great advantage to me, because I knew the names o’ the streets where Jane ’ad lived. There was one of ’em--Laura, I think, or some other girl’s name--which Macklin said was ’oly ground. ‘If you’d been initiated _then_,’ he says, ‘you’d ha’ felt your flat feet tingle every time you walked over those sacred pavin’-stones.’ “‘My feet tingled right enough,’ I said, ‘but not on account of Jane. Nothin’ remarkable about that,’ I says.