“No, sir, you never dared to contest the fact, though you may have endeavored to escape from its application. I believe, sir, the only instance of deficient judgment I can be accused of, _you_, at least, ought not to reproach me with. 'My family'”--this was a word Mrs. Kennyfeck used to enunciate with an emphasis that always impressed her husband very little provocation might possibly have made her say, “our house”--“my family, indeed, may refuse to forgive me”--she stopped, wiped her eyes, and then, with what seemed an heroic victory over her feelings, went on--“but the welfare of my children, sir, may well be conceived dear to one, who would not league to them the unhappy descent she has herself suffered.” Mrs. Kennyfeck paused again. It appeared as though, do what she would, there was no escaping from the theme of her _mésalliance_ when once she had touched it. It was very birdlime in its adhesiveness. “When, therefore, Mr. Kennyfeck, the occasion presents itself of resuming, through my children--for alas! it is lost to me in my own person--the station I have forfeited, I do think that I should at least be consulted, that my advice should be asked, and my guidance required. Don't you think so too, sir?” Now, of all men living, never was there one more inept to read riddles than poor Mr. Kennyfeck, and while he averred that he perfectly concurred in his wife's opinion, he had not the faintest glimmering of a notion what that opinion implied. “Don't you think, sir, also it would be better to use a little candor with your family?” “Yes, pa, we know all about it,” said Miss Kennyfeck, nodding significantly. “Ay, indeed, we had it in black and white--that is, if we can call a bit of burnt--” “Aunt Fanny, what are you about?” cried Miss Kennyfeck, in a voice of real terror, for she was shocked at the meanness she did not scruple to stoop to. “Yes, Mr. Kennyfeck,” reiterated his wife, “we know all! If, however, you still persist in maintaining that mysterious aspect you have assumed with your family, I must say, sir, it is perfectly absurd.” “It is unnecessary, too, papa,” cried Miss Kennyfeck. “And it's unfair to that young creature,” chimed in Aunt Fanny, with a gesture towards Olivia, who sat, _en tableau_ for injured innocence, next a window. Possibly, if any could have read Mr. Kennyfeck's sentiments at that instant, they would have recognized the sufferings of a true martyr. To his own heart he muttered,-- “This is very hard; it is being called upon to reply to a case without a copy of the affidavits.” At length, with a courage that he did not believe he was capable of, he said,-- “I am confused, Mrs. Kennyfeck; I am overwhelmed; I may submit a plea of surprise--that is, I would move the court, I mean--in fact, I must beg you will permit me to adjourn this case.”