“It is only nine miles from Carisbrook to Freshwater, the best way,” said the driver; “but it will be a matter of fourteen miles the way you are going.” The rest of the party looked at each other, and smiled; and Mr. Merton asked Agnes, in French, if she did not think obstinacy made a person very disagreeable. “But I do not think I ever could have been so obstinate as this man,” said the self-convicted Agnes, whose conscience reminded her that she had often been accused of this fault. “It is difficult to see our own faults in the same light as they appear to other people,” said Mrs. Merton; “but I do assure you, Agnes, that your obstinacy has often appeared as unreasonable, and, I may say, as disagreeable to me, as this man’s does to us all. Judge, then, in what a light you must have appeared to your governess, to the servants, and even to your companions, when you would persist in following your own way, in spite of all that could be said to the contrary.” Agnes was too much ashamed to reply; and they travelled on in silence, till they reached the little village of Calbourn. They passed through it without noticing the turn to Yarmouth, as Mr. and Mrs. Merton happened to be engaged in conversation, and the driver went on his own way. He would also have passed a second turn a few miles farther on the road, if Agnes’s quick eye had not caught sight of the finger-post. Mr. Merton then insisted on the man taking them to Yarmouth, which he did, muttering and grumbling to himself all the way, and looking so disagreeable that Agnes resolved, in her own mind, that nothing should ever tempt her to be obstinate again. They had a very pleasant drive, with a fine view of the sea, and of the numerous vessels in Yarmouth Roads, as they advanced. When they passed the turnpike, a fine healthy-looking country-woman came out with a child in her arms, to receive the toll. She no sooner saw Mr. Merton than she cried out, “Poor dear gentleman, how very ill he do look to be sure!—but our fine air will soon set him up again.” Agnes was inexpressibly shocked at this, and she looked at her papa to see how he bore it. Mr. Merton smiled at her look of anxiety, and said, “Do not suppose, my dear Agnes, that I am hurt at the woman’s observation; for though such a remark would have been exceedingly rude and unfeeling in ordinary life, it was here evidently dictated by kindness of heart. We should never forget,” continued he, “when we are judging of the conduct of others, that we ought to estimate their conduct by their opportunities and habits of life, rather than by our own. You, Agnes, are but too apt to forget this, and to fancy that people who have been brought up in the simplest and rudest manner, should be acquainted with all the refinements and courtesies of life.”