"I'm not looken' to lead no maid," cried the badgered Archelaus,
snatching the light. "Do 'ee grudge a chap a kiss or two? What's the harm
in kissen'? You knew all about it when you was young, mother; you're a
nice one to talk to a chap, you are!"

With which unfilial gibe he disappeared.

Annie was one of those women who like a buffet, verbal or physical, from
a man, whether he be husband, brother, or son. She looked after
Archelaus with pride.

"He be rare and like his da when he's got the uglies," she said; "he'll
look fine at the head o' the table to-night, will Arch'laus."

"Parson Boase'll put Ishmael at the head of the table," announced Tom
carelessly, with a sly glance at his mother. Annie whipped round at him
in blank surprise, while even John-James paused in his washing-up and
stood gaping over a dish.

"Gwain to put my own cheild auver my head and the head of my first-born,
is 'ee?" cried Annie. "Eh, that passon! Sim'me he's lacken' his senses!
Sim'me that when the law lets a man like that come shoven' and meddlen'
in a woman's house that the law's lacken' its senses too!"

"Don't fret about the law," advised Tom; "I've heard tell the law can be
turned any way a clever chap has a mind. I'll see what I can do with it
when I'm to Mr. Tonkin, and then perhaps we'll all snap our fingers at
Parson Boase."

"Tom do talk a wunnerful passel o' nonsense," remarked John-James