Had it not been that she was fearful of angering her father, Phoebe would on no account have accepted his assistance; but he forced it upon her, and compelled her to take his arm. He walked proudly through the village with his lovely charge, tilting his hat a little on one side of his head to show his quality. Sometimes he dropped one of Phoebe's parcels, and when she once stooped to pick it up and their heads touched, he became quite merry, and asked her which was the hardest. She spoke scarcely a word; but he beguiled the way with anecdote and jest, and, when they reached Parksides, declared it was the pleasantest walk he had ever taken. She ran up to her room and left him alone. For himself, though he was at the door of the house, he did not enter it; he turned back, and walked about the grounds in thought, saying more than once to himself, "Upon my soul it wouldn't be half a bad move!" emphasizing his remark by slapping his leg smartly. On his way back to the house he encountered Tom Barley, and, elated by his reflections, he cried out: "Hallo, you beggar! How are _you_ getting on? Making your fortune?" "No," said Tom Barley; "are you?" "Yes," said Jeremiah, exultantly. "_I'm_ getting on like a house on fire. Here's a penny--no, a ha'penny for you." Tom Barley threw it back savagely, and it grazed Jeremiah's forehead. "I could have you up for that," said Jeremiah, edging away from Tom. "Assault and battery, you know. If you give me any of your cheek I'll land you at the station-house." "Give me any of yours," retorted Tom, "and I'll break every bone in your body!" Jeremiah deemed it best to walk away, which he did rather swiftly, and with decided nervousness. Upon making his appearance before his mother he worked himself up into a great passion, and said that Tom Barley had set upon him with a knife, and had threatened his life. She soothed him, and advised him to inform Miser Farebrother, which he promised to do; and being further mollified by a draught of ale and a plate of cold meat and pickles, he condescended to be in a better humour. "You haven't kissed me, Jeremiah," said Mrs. Pamflett. "Oh, bother!" he said, brushing her cheek with his lips. "I like to kiss girls. I say, mother, how pretty Phoebe's grown!" "Miss Farebrother?" asked his mother, somewhat startled. "I said 'Phoebe,' didn't I? She's about as pretty as they make 'em. I met her in the village, and she took my arm. A little stuck-up at first, but I soon brought her to her senses. Mother, what do you think of me?" "You are the best son in the world," she replied, readily, "and the cleverest man in England." "Yes, I think I can show them a trick or two. Are you proud of me, mother?" "Indeed I am, Jeremiah?" "Am I a handsome man, mother?" "A handsomer couldn't be found, Jeremiah." "Am I good enough for any girl?" "Indeed you are. She'll be a lucky girl you set your heart on, my boy."