Mr. Bushel sat on high at his desk, where he gave out the hymns, and coughed every now and then, and looked straight at the pew where the Allens and George sat. Mr. Bushel knew well enough that, although he was just as ardent on the other side, the sermon was not meant for him, and not one of Mr. Broad’s remarks touched him. He thought only of the Allens, and rejoiced inwardly. George walked home with Priscilla in silence. At supper-time he suddenly said: “I think your father might have found something better to do than preach at me.” Priscilla was shocked. She had never heard a criticism on her father before. “Really, George, what are you thinking of to talk in that way about a sermon, and on a Sunday night too?” “He did preach at me; and if he has anything to say against me, why doesn’t he come and say it here or at the shop?” “O George, this is dreadful! Besides, mamma _did_ come and talk to me.” “What has that got to do with it? Well, what did your mother say?” “Why, she told me all about this meeting, and how you fought a man and nearly killed him, and you a member at Tanner’s Lane, and how you oughtn’t to have been there at all, and what Mr. Bushel was going to do.” “Oughtn’t to have been there at all? Why not? I don’t believe you know any more than this table why I was there.” “Oh yes, I do. You never tell me anything, but Mrs. Bushel told me. You want to get them all turned out of their farms.” “Bosh! There you are again!—the pains I took the other night again to make you comprehend what Free Trade meant. I knew you didn’t understand a word about it; and if you did understand, you wouldn’t believe me. You never take any notice of anything I say; but if Mrs. Bushel or any other blockhead tells you anything, you believe that directly.” Priscilla’s eyes filled; she took out her handkerchief, and went upstairs. George sat still for a while, and then followed her. He found her sitting by the baby’s cradle, her head on her hands and sobbing. It touched him beyond measure to see how she retreated to her child; he went to her; his anger was once more forgotten, and once more he was reconciled with kisses and self-humiliation. The next morning, however, as he went to the square, the conversation of the night before returned to him. “What does it all mean?” he cried to himself. “Would to God it were either one thing or another! I could be happy if I really cared for her, and if I hated her downright I could endure it like any other calamity which cannot be altered; but this is more than I can bear!” The Allens, father and mother, held anxious debate whether they should take any notice of the attack by their pastor, and in the end determined to do nothing. They considered, and rightly considered, that any action on their part would only make George’s position more difficult, and he was the first person to be considered.