“Servants, my dear, make such mischief, you know, by misunderstanding and misrepresenting every thing they hear; and they repeat things so oddly, and raise such strange reports!” “True--very true indeed, ma’am,” said Mr. Beaumont. “You are quite right, and I beg pardon for being so hasty--I wish you could teach me a little of your patience and prudence.” “Prudence! ah! my dear Edward, ‘tis only time and sad experience of the world can teach that to people of _our_ open tempers. I was at your age ten times more imprudent and unsuspicious than you are.” “Were you, ma’am?--But I don’t think I am unsuspicious. I was when I was a boy--I wish we could continue children always in some things. I hate suspicion in any body--but more than in any one else, I hate it in myself. And yet--” Mr. Beaumont hesitated, and his mother instantly went on with a fluent panegyric upon the hereditary unsuspiciousness of his temper. “But, madam, were you not saying something to me about Miss Hunter?” “Was I?--Oh, I was merely going to say, that I was sorry you did not know she was going this morning, that you might have taken leave of her, poor thing!” “Take leave of her! ma’am: I bowed to her, and wished her a good morning, when I met her just now, and she told me she was only going to the hall for a day. Surely no greater leave-taking was requisite, when I am to see the lady again to-morrow, I presume.” “That is not quite so certain as she thinks, poor soul! I told her I would send for her again to-morrow, just to keep up her spirits at leaving me. Walk this way, Edward, under the shade of the trees, for I am dead with the heat; and you, too, look so hot! I say I am not so sure that it would be prudent to have her here so much, especially whilst Mr. Palmer is with us, you know--” Mrs. Beaumont paused, as if waiting for an assent, or a dissent, or a leading hint how to proceed: but her son persisting in perverse silence, she was forced to repeat, “You know, Edward, my dear, you know?” “I don’t know, indeed, ma’am.” “You don’t know!” “Faith, not I, ma’am. I don’t know, for the soul of me, what Mr. Palmer’s coming has to do with Miss Hunter’s going. There’s room enough in the house, I suppose, for each of them, and all of us to play our parts. As to the rest, the young lady’s coming or going is quite a matter of indifference to me, except, of course, as far as politeness and hospitality go. But all that I leave to you, who do the honours for me so well.”