"Ay, ay!" said Mr. Buxton, when they were shown to him; "this is grand! when I was a boy I could make a flying eagle with one stroke of my pen, but I never could do all this. And yet I thought myself a fine fellow, I warrant you. And these sums! why man! I must make you my agent. I need one, I'm sure; for though I get an accountant every two or three years to do up my books, they somehow have the knack of getting wrong again. Those quarries, Mrs. Browne, which every one says are so valuable, and for the stone out of which receive orders amounting to hundreds of pounds, what d'ye think was the profit I made last year, according to my books?" "I'm sure I don't know, sir; something very great, I've no doubt." "Just seven-pence three farthings," said he, bursting into a fit of merry laughter, such as another man would have kept for the announcement of enormous profits. "But I must manage things differently soon. Frank will want money when he goes to Oxford, and he shall have it. I'm but a rough sort of fellow, but Frank shall take his place as a gentleman. Aha, Miss Maggie! and where's my gingerbread? There you go, creeping up to Mrs. Buxton on a Wednesday, and have never taught Cook how to make gingerbread yet. Well, Ned! and how are the classics going on? Fine fellow, that Virgil! Let me see, how does it begin? 'Arma, virumque cano, Trojae qui primus ab oris.' That's pretty well, I think, considering I've never opened him since I left school thirty years ago. To be sure, I spent six hours a day at it when I was there. Come now, I'll puzzle you. Can you construe this? "Infir dealis, inoak noneis; inmud eelis, inclay noneis." "To be sure I can," said Edward, with a little contempt in his tone. "Can you do this, sir? "Apud in is almi des ire, Mimis tres i neve require, Alo veri findit a gestis, His miseri ne ver at restis." But though Edward had made much progress, and gained three prizes, his moral training had been little attended to. He was more tyrannical than ever, both to his mother and Maggie. It was a drawn battle between him and Nancy, and they kept aloof from each other as much as possible. Maggie fell into her old humble way of submitting to his will, as long as it did not go against her conscience; but that, being daily enlightened by her habits of pious aspiring thought, would not allow her to be so utterly obedient as formerly. In addition to his imperiousness, he had learned to affix the idea of cleverness to various artifices and subterfuges which utterly revolted her by their meanness. "You are so set up, by being intimate with Erminia, that you won't do a thing I tell you; you are as selfish and self-willed as"--he made a pause. Maggie was ready to cry. "I will do anything, Ned, that is right." "Well! and I tell you this is right." "How can it be?" said she, sadly, almost wishing to be convinced.