The hall mat, instead of "Cave canem," bore the legend "Friend, do not swear; it is a sinful habit," and always exasperated visitors; while, if you put your feet upon a stool, you withdrew them directly, feeling that you had been guilty of an irreverent act; for there would be a line worked in white beads, with a reference to "Romans xii." or "2 Corinthians ii." If you opened a book there was a marker within bidding you "flee," or "cease," or "turn," or "stand fast." If you dined there, and sat near the fire, a screen was hung on your chair, which was so covered with quotations that it made you feel as if you were turning your back on the Christian religion. But still, look which way you would, you felt as if you were in the house of a good man. Pictures there were, of course. There was a large engraving of Ruth and Boaz, to which Mrs Max always drew your attention with-- "Would not you suppose that Mr Shingle had sat for Boaz?" And when you agreed that he might, Violante always joined in, directing one eye at you, and saying-- "People always think, too, that the Ruth is so like Mrs Maximilian." Then the other eye came slowly up to finish the first one's task, and seemed to say, "Now, then, what do you think of that?" The place was well furnished, but, from the pictures to the carpets, everything was of an ecclesiastical pattern; and when Max came in, with a white cravat, you felt that you were in the presence of a substantial rector, if he were not a canon, or a dean. In a wicked fit, Dick had once dubbed his brother and sister-in-law "Sage and Onions"--the one from his solid, learned look; the other from her being always strangely scented, and her weakness for bursting into tears. Upon the present occasion, she sat for a few minutes, and then, taking out her handkerchief, began to weep silently. "Your guardian is always late for dinner, my dear; and everything will be spoilt. Where is Tom?" "Gone hanging about after Miss Jessie, I suppose," said Violante, with a roll of one eye. "And Fred as well," she added, with the other. "It is a strange infatuation on the part of my two sons. Your dear guardian's Esau and Jacob," said Mrs Max, wiping her eyes. "I wonder how it is that poor creature, Richard Shingle, makes his money." "I don't know," said Violante. "They've set up a very handsome carriage." "Dear me! It is a mystery," said Mrs Max, still weeping. "Two years ago Richard was our poor tenant; now he must be worth thousands. I hope he is honest." "Perhaps we had better work him some texts," said Violante, maliciously. Then, raising her other eye, "They might do him good." "I don't know," sighed Mrs Max; "we never see them now they have grown so rich. It is very shocking." Violante did not seem to see that it was shocking, for she only tossed her head. "Has Tom been any more attentive to you lately, my dear?"