The “best bed” and “the best room” were always reserved for “dear mama,” and from her increasing volubility on all topics connected with married life, and from the number of times she left her daughter in tears from scoldings regarding household affairs, Mr. Charley Warbeck thanked his lucky stars that she had not proposed to live with them altogether. For “if such braggadocio and endless lectures are characteristic of ‘the Haylarks’” he thought, “I am very glad little Clara has not inherited any of the hereditary virtues of that illustrious family.” If “mama’s” semi-weekly visits always ended in Clara crying, Dame Worthington’s had the contrary effect. For the little wife was supremely happy, and always laughing at the old lady’s stories about “dear Charley.” In truth, Dame Worthington seemed to know so much about him, and her memory reached so far back, that Clara thought her husband must have been a very young, and a very small child indeed, when the old lady had first made his acquaintance. At all events, Clara thought, “She is very loving, and thoughtful, and kind. She loves _me_ very much, and, as for ‘dear Charles,’ she idolizes _him_, and a mother could not manifest more care and anxiety for his welfare and happiness than _she_ does.” Sir Richard frequently visited Dame Worthington as usual, and had a long chat with her in her snug back parlour. And, upon some occasions, the robust, short-breathing, imposing Mistress Haylark would join the party, and monopolize all the conversation. And it mattered little what topic was broached, Mistress H. always had a very long oration ready at her finger-tips for the occasion, and backed up all arguments or assertions with an everlasting appeal to “the Haylarks,” whether living or defunct. Sir Richard became used to her loquacity, but frequently dozed in his arm-chair, and, falling fast asleep, ignominiously left the field of debate to herself, or to any one courageous enough to take up the cudgel and defy “the Haylarks,” constant and only authority on all subjects. Dame Worthington’s house never flourished so much as it had since the wedding; and the old lady, it must be confessed, was “saving money.” She had always contrived to do _that_, however. So that now, although “times were hard,” and “money very tight,” as it always _is_, the old gentlewoman was laying by a considerable sum, and seemed to take much delight in saving or accumulating every spare penny. * * * * * But if prosperity had attended all the industrious efforts of the good old lady, and her newly-married “children,” as she affectionately termed them, there were other persons who figure in our story who had little of which to boast of in that particular. Sir Andrew’s farming operations in the country were productive of little profit.