“A very nice, snug little box (jointure-house, I suppose)! I would not grudge that, I’m sure, if I had but the rest. But here, I suspect, comes madam’s first specimen of the art of having a family.” This last thought was extracted from Mr. Ferrers’s contemplative brain by a lovely little girl, who came running up to him, fearless and spoilt as she was; and, after indulging a tolerable stare, exclaimed, “Are you come to see papa, sir?” “Papa!--the deuce!”--thought Lumley; “and who is papa, my dear?” “Why, mamma’s husband. He is not my papa by rights.” “Certainly not, my love; not by rights--I comprehend.” “Eh!” “Yes, I am going to see your papa by wrongs--Mr. Templeton.” “Oh, this way, then.” “You are very fond of Mr. Templeton, my little angel.” “To be sure I am. You have not seen the rocking-horse he is going to give me.” “Not yet, sweet child! And how is mamma?” “Oh, poor, dear mamma,” said the child, with a sudden change of voice, and tears in her eyes. “Ah, she is not well!” “In the family way, to a dead certainty!” muttered Ferrers with a groan: “but here is my uncle. Horrid name! Uncles were always wicked fellows. Richard the Third and the man who did something or other to the babes in the wood were a joke to my hard-hearted old relation, who has robbed me with a widow! The lustful, liquorish old--My _dear_ sir, I’m so glad to see you!” Mr. Templeton, who was a man very cold in his manners, and always either looked over people’s heads or down upon the ground, just touched his nephew’s outstretched hand, and telling him he was welcome, observed that it was a very fine afternoon. “Very, indeed; sweet place this; you see, by the way, that I have already made acquaintance with my fair cousin-in-law. She is very pretty.” “I really think she is,” said Mr. Templeton, with some warmth, and gazing fondly at the child, who was now throwing buttercups up in the air, and trying to catch them. Mr. Ferrers wished in his heart that they had been brickbats! “Is she like her mother?” asked the nephew. “Like whom, sir?” “Her mother--Mrs. Templeton.” “No, not very; there is an air, perhaps, but the likeness is not remarkably strong. Would you not like to go to your room before dinner?” “Thank you. Can I not first be presented to Mrs. Tem--” “She is at her devotions, Mr. Lumley,” interrupted Mr. Templeton, grimly. “The she-hypocrite!” thought Ferrers. “Oh, I am delighted that your pious heart has found so congenial a helpmate!” “It is a great blessing, and I am grateful for it. This is the way to the house.”