Mrs. Worboise went on in this strain, intelligible neither to herself nor her son, seeing she had not more than the vaguest notion of what she meant by German theology, for at least five minutes, during which Thomas did not interrupt her once. By allowing the lies of his German master to pass thus uncontradicted, he took another long stride down the inclined plane of deceit. After this he became naturally more familiar with Mr. Molken. The German abandoned books, and began to teach him fencing, in which he was an adept, talking to him in German all the while, and thus certainly increasing his knowledge of the language, though not in a direction that was likely within fifty years to lead him to the mastery of commercial correspondence in that tongue. CHAPTER X. MOTHER AND DAUGHTER. Mr. Boxall, with some difficulty, arising from reluctance, made his wife acquainted with the annoyance occasioned him by the discovery of the fact that Tom Worboise had not even told his father that Mary was ill. "I'm convinced," he said, "that the young rascal has only been amusing himself--flirting, I believe, you women call it." "I'm none so sure of that, Richard," answered his wife. "You leave him to me." "Now, my dear, I won't have you throwing our Mary in any fool's face. It's bad enough as it is. But I declare I would rather see her in her grave than scorned by any man." "You may see her there without before long," answered his wife, with a sigh. "Eh! What! She's not worse, is she?" "No; but she hasn't much life left in her. I'm afraid it's settling on her lungs. Her cough is something dreadful to hear, and tears her to pieces." "It's milder weather, though, now, and that will make a difference before long. Now, I know what you're thinking of, my dear, and I won't have it. I told the fellow she wasn't fit to see anybody." "Were you always ready to talk about me to everyone that came in your way, Richard?" asked his wife, with a good-humored smile. "I don't call a lad's father and mother any one that comes in the way--though, I dare say, fathers and mothers are in the way sometimes," he added, with a slight sigh. "Would you have talked about me to your own father, Richard?" "Well, you see, I wasn't in his neighborhood. But my father was a--a--stiff kind of man to deal with." "Not worse than Mr. Worboise, depend upon it, my dear." "But Worboise would like well enough to have our Mary for a daughter-in-law." "I dare say. But that mightn't make it easier to talk to him about her--for Tom, I mean. For my part, I never did see two such parents as poor Tom has got. I declare it's quite a shame to sit upon that handsome young lad--and amiable--as they do. He can hardly call his nose his own. I wouldn't trust that Mr. Worboise, for my part, no, not if I was drowning." "Why, wife!" exclaimed Mr. Boxall, both surprised and annoyed, "this _is_ something new. How long--" But his wife went on, regardless.