I was not in the mood to be satisfied with this, especially as she had said the same thing to my uncle, as late as last Sunday. And gradually, by coaxing her to begin, and then contradicting her upon some little point of fact, I knew her opinions even better than my own, for my own had less to go upon. For it must be borne in mind that most of what I have entered about Sir Cumberleigh Hotchpot and Mr. Donovan Bulwrag comes from knowledge which I obtained long afterwards; and none of it was, in my mind as yet, beyond what my Uncle Corny and Sam Henderson had said, and the little that had been dropped by Kitty, who had scarcely had three weeks as yet to talk. “Well, I shall do this,” I said at last to Mrs. Wilcox; “you have told me many things which will enable me to get on. Nothing can be worse than things are now; and the greatest enemy I have got—if I am good enough to have an enemy—cannot say that I have shown impatience. I have felt enough of it; but nobody knows but myself how close I have kept it. I mean to make no disturbance now; but I shall just go and see the great lady.” “You’d better not, sir,” cried Mrs. Wilcox; “you would be like a dummy, if she chose to speak out, and the humour might be on her. And you can’t get nothing out of her, except hard knocks.” “Hard words break no bones, any more than soft ones butter parsnips. I shall go and see her, if I can, and that villain of a son of hers as well. It is my duty to discover where my Kitty’s father is.” “She won’t see you, Mr. Kit, unless it is to triumph over you. She loves doing that, when any one is down. But you won’t have a chance of seeing Mr. Downy. They say he is out of the country altogether, though my little Teddy swears he saw him Sunday night, and I never knew him go wrong about a face before. But he must be wrong this time, if there is any truth in words. And generally always he comes down this road, whenever he is at home.” “At any rate, I shall ask for him. By-the-bye, what is he like, if I should chance to meet him?” “He have a great square face, sir, like the front of a big head, with a lot of sandy hair both above it and below. And he comes along the road with his eyes half-shut, just as if there was nothing worth looking at. And his eyes are as yellow as new-run honey, and a few butter-spots upon his cheeks, where you can see them. He is a square-built young man, not so tall as you, but thicker, and his legs come after him as he walks, and he looks as if he never could be in a hurry.” “Thank you. I think I ought to know him now. It will be my own fault if I don’t. Not a pleasant man to look at, if you do him justice, Mrs. Wilcox. No wonder that people don’t seem to like him very much.” “Ever so much worse to deal with than he is to look at, Mr. Kit. Keep out of his way, sir, that’s my advice. I believe he is at the bottom of your trouble somehow. Though what good he can get out of it surpasses me.”