“To be sure, it ’ud be unbecoming if it wasn’t well known you’ve got them belonging to you as can afford to give you such things when they’ve done with ’em themselves. It stands to reason I must give my own niece clothes now and then,—such things as _I_ buy every year, and never wear anything out. And as for Lucy, there’s no giving to her, for she’s got everything o’ the choicest; sister Deane may well hold her head up,—though she looks dreadful yallow, poor thing—I doubt this liver complaint ’ull carry her off. That’s what this new vicar, this Dr Kenn, said in the funeral sermon to-day.” “Ah, he’s a wonderful preacher, by all account,—isn’t he, Sophy?” said Mrs Tulliver. “Why, Lucy had got a collar on this blessed day,” continued Mrs Pullet, with her eyes fixed in a ruminating manner, “as I don’t say I haven’t got as good, but I must look out my best to match it.” “Miss Lucy’s called the bell o’ St Ogg’s, they say; that’s a cur’ous word,” observed Mr Pullet, on whom the mysteries of etymology sometimes fell with an oppressive weight. “Pooh!” said Mr Tulliver, jealous for Maggie, “she’s a small thing, not much of a figure. But fine feathers make fine birds. I see nothing to admire so much in those diminutive women; they look silly by the side o’ the men,—out o’ proportion. When I chose my wife, I chose her the right size,—neither too little nor too big.” The poor wife, with her withered beauty, smiled complacently. “But the men aren’t _all_ big,” said uncle Pullet, not without some self-reference; “a young fellow may be good-looking and yet not be a six-foot, like Master Tom here.” “Ah, it’s poor talking about littleness and bigness,—anybody may think it’s a mercy they’re straight,” said aunt Pullet. “There’s that mismade son o’ Lawyer Wakem’s, I saw him at church to-day. Dear, dear! to think o’ the property he’s like to have; and they say he’s very queer and lonely, doesn’t like much company. I shouldn’t wonder if he goes out of his mind; for we never come along the road but he’s a-scrambling out o’ the trees and brambles at the Red Deeps.”