“Poor child! No; she hates the very sight of him. But he swears she shall marry nobody else if he hangs for it. And, to tell you the truth, I suspect that if Jessie does seem to trifle with others a little too lightly, it is to draw away this bully’s suspicion from the only man I think she does care for,--a poor sickly young fellow who was crippled by an accident, and whom Tom Bowles could brain with his little finger.” “This is really interesting,” cried Kenelm, showing something like excitement. “I should like to know this terrible suitor.” “That’s easy eno’,” said the farmer, dryly. “You have only to take a stroll with Jessie Wiles after sunset, and you’ll know more of Tom Bowles than you are likely to forget in a month.” “Thank you very much for your information,” said Kenelm, in a soft tone, grateful but pensive. “I hope to profit by it.” “Do. I should be sorry if any harm came to thee; and Tom Bowles in one of his furies is as bad to cross as a mad bull. So now, as we must be up early, I’ll just take a look round the stables, and then off to bed; and I advise you to do the same.” “Thank you for the hint. I see the young ladies have already gone in. Good-night.” Passing through the garden, Kenelm encountered the junior Saunderson. “I fear,” said the Votary of Progress, “that you have found the governor awful slow. What have you been talking about?” “Girls,” said Kenelm, “a subject always awful, but not necessarily slow.” “Girls,--the governor been talking about girls? You joke.” “I wish I did joke, but that is a thing I could never do since I came upon earth. Even in the cradle, I felt that life was a very serious matter, and did not allow of jokes. I remember too well my first dose of castor-oil. You too, Mr. Bob, have doubtless imbibed that initiatory preparation to the sweets of existence. The corners of your mouth have not recovered from the downward curves into which it so rigidly dragged them. Like myself, you are of grave temperament, and not easily moved to jocularity,--nay, an enthusiast for Progress is of necessity a man eminently dissatisfied with the present state of affairs. And chronic dissatisfaction resents the momentary relief of a joke.” “Give off chaffing, if you please,” said Bob, lowering the didascular intonations of his voice, “and just tell me plainly, did not my father say anything particular about me?” “Not a word: the only person of the male sex of whom he said anything particular was Tom Bowles.” “What, fighting Tom! the terror of the whole neighbourhood! Ah, I guess the old gentleman is afraid lest Tom may fall foul upon me. But Jessie Wiles is not worth a quarrel with that brute. It is a crying shame in the Government--” “What! has the Government failed to appreciate the heroism of Tom Bowles, or rather to restrain the excesses of its ardour?” “Stuff! it is a shame in the Government not to have compelled his father to put him to school. If education were universal--”