‘Well, I do not think Tom Naylor is as bad as the rest,’ said Lily; ‘he would have been tolerable, if he had married any one but Martha Gage.’ ‘Yes, he is an open good-natured fellow, and I have hopes of making an impression on him.’ ‘If not,’ said Lily, ‘I hope papa will take away his custom.’ ‘What?’ said Mr. Mohun, who always heard any mention of himself. Mr. Devereux repeated his history, and discussed the matter with his uncle, only once interrupted by an inquiry from Jane about the child’s name, a point on which she could gain no intelligence. His report the next day was not decidedly unfavourable, though he scarcely hoped the christening would be so soon as Tuesday. He had not seen the father, and suspected he had purposely kept out of the way. Jane, disappointed that the baby’s name remained a mystery, resolved to set out on a voyage of discovery. Accordingly, as soon as her cousin was gone, she asked Emily if she had not been saying that Ada wanted some more cotton for her sampler. ‘Yes,’ said Emily, ‘but I am not going to walk all the way to Mrs. Appleton’s this afternoon.’ ‘Shall I go?’ said Jane. ‘Ada, run and fetch your pattern.’ Emily and Ada were much obliged by Jane’s disinterested offer, and in a quarter of an hour Ada’s thoughts and hands were busy in Mrs. Appleton’s drawer of many-coloured cotton. ‘What a pity this is about Mrs. Naylor’s baby,’ began Jane. ‘It is a sad story indeed, Miss Jane, I am sure it must be grievous to Mr. Devereux,’ said Mrs. Appleton. ‘Betsy Wall said he had been there three times about it.’ ‘Ah! we all know that Walls have ears,’ said Jane; ‘how that Betsy does run about gossiping!’ ‘Yes, Miss Jane, there she bides all day long at the stile gaping; not a stitch does she do for her mother; I cannot tell what is to be the end of it.’ ‘And do you know what the child’s name is to be, Mrs. Appleton?’ ‘No, Miss Jane,’ answered Mrs. Appleton. ‘Betsy did say they talked of naming him after his uncle, Edward Gage, only Mr. Devereux would not let him stand.’ ‘No,’ said Jane. ‘Since he married that dissenting wife he never comes near the church; he is too much like the sour Gage, as we call his mother, to be good for much. But, after all, he is not so bad as Dick Rodd, who has never been confirmed, and has never shown any sense of religion in his life.’ ‘Yes, Miss, Dick Rodd is a sad fellow: did you hear what a row there was at the Mohun Arms last week, Miss Jane?’ ‘Aye,’ said Jane, ‘and papa says he shall certainly turn Dick Rodd out of the house as soon as the lease is out, and it is only till next Michaelmas twelve-months.’ ‘Yes, Miss, as I said to Betsy Wall, it would be more for their interest to behave well.’