"I have been thy guardian angel for thirty years"--and Mrs. Atheling put her head in her hands, and began to cry a little. The Squire could not bear that argument; he turned backward a few steps, and said in a more conciliatory voice,-- "Come now, Maude. Thou hast been my master for thirty years; for that is what thou meanest by 'guardian angel.' But there is nothing worth crying about. I thought I had brought news that would set thee up a bit; but women are never satisfied. What dost thou want more?" "I want thee to go in the morning and find out all about Edgar. I want thee to bring his friend up here. I would like to question him myself." "I will not do it." "Then thou oughtest to be ashamed of thyself for as cruel, and stubborn, and ill-conditioned a father as I know of. John, dear John, I am very unhappy about the lad. He went away without a rag of his best clothes. There's the twelve fine linen shirts Kitty made him, backstitched and everything, lying in his drawers yet, and his top-coat hanging on the peg in his room, and his hat and cane so natural like; and he never was a lad to take care of his health; and so--" "Now, Maude, I have humbled a bit to thee many a time; and I don't mind it at all; for thou art only a woman--and a woman and a wife can blackguard a man as no other body has either the right or the power to do--but I will not humble to Edgar Atheling. No, I won't! He is about as bad a prodigal son as any father could have." "Well, I never! Putting thy own son down with harlots and swine, and such like!" "I do nothing of the sort, Maude. There's all kinds of prodigals. Has not Edgar left his home and gone away with Radicals and Reformers, and poor, discontented beggars of all makes and kinds? Happen, I could have forgiven him easier if it had been a bit of pleasuring,--wine and a bonny lass, or a race-horse or two. But mechanics' meetings, and pandering to ranting Radicals--I call it scandalous!" "Edgar has a good heart." "A good heart! A cat and a fiddle! And that friend of his thou wantest me to run after, he is nothing but a bouncing, swaggering puppy! Body of me, Maude! I will not have this subject named again. If thou thinkest I will ever humble to Edgar Atheling, thou art off thy horse; for I will not--_never_!" "Well, John, as none of thy family were ever out of their senses before, I do hope thou wilt come round; I do indeed!" "Make thyself easy on that score. Lord! What did the Almighty make women of? It confounds me." "To be sure it does. Didst thou expect the Almighty to tell thee? He has so ordered things that men get wed, and then try and find the secret out. Thou hadst better go to bed, John Atheling. I see plainly there is neither sense nor reason in thee to-night. I fancy thou art a bit set up with the thought of being sent to Parliament by Duke Richmoor. I wouldn't if I was thee, for thou wilt have to do just what he tells thee to do."