‘Ah, I have known a great many people,’ said Mrs. Brown, ‘your father among others, and old Lord John, who died the other day. You never saw your uncle John? Well, you had no great loss; but his money will do you just as much good as if he had been the greatest hero in the world.’ ‘I do not know what you mean about my uncle John and money. Do you mean to say that you knew my father?’ ‘Ah!’ said Mrs. Brown, ‘they have not told you--and I don’t doubt that was wise enough until all is settled. It was the right thing not to do.’ ‘Did you know my father, Mrs. Brown?’ ‘My dear, I told you I have known all sorts of people. I knew them all, more or less, in Paris. There was always plenty going on; and I love to be where a great many things are going on. I will tell you how I know your cousin Jim. I am in a very frank humour to-day--in a coming on mood like Rosalind. I had met him in Oxford, when I was not as I am now, at a very gay, noisy party indeed, where I was with some people--whom I would not name in your hearing. I spoke to him here out of prudence, thinking he might say to his father, the Rector, or his mother, the Rectoress--I have seen that woman before, and she is not fit to have charge of your school. So for a selfish motive I made friends with him. It took away his breath at first; but he is a lamb, poor innocent, like yourself, and was very sorry to think I should have so come down in the world.’ ‘Mrs. Brown!’ cried Mab. She was put at a dreadful disadvantage by that apple, which was very good, especially with the little pot of cream poured over it in the most lavish hospitable way. When you have once accepted such a thing, and are in the middle of it with the spoon in your hand, and the sweetness melting in your mouth, it is very difficult to express your consternation, or indignation, or dismay. ‘And my opinion is,’ said the schoolmistress, ‘that he can be stopped and brought back, if anybody will take the trouble--judiciously--not in the driving and nagging way. I’m glad to see the curate has stepped in, though he is no friend of mine. Well! but you would like to hear a little more of my history. Do you know what a Bohemian is? You must have seen the word in books. Well, then, I was a Bohemian born. We were both so; but the other, who was the great lady, settled, as great ladies do, and had her irregularities about her, in her own kingdom, don’t you know; but I went out to seek mine. I never did very much harm, however, or I would not talk to a little girl like you about it. I looked on at other people’s fun, and that was fun enough for me. There is always mud about it in the end, and it sticks. I like best to look on----’