were made in her father's study the morning Peter began.

"My poor mother!" said she. "I remember how she used to stand in
the hall, just near enough the study-door, to catch the tone of my
father's voice. I could tell in a moment if all was going right,
by her face. And it did go right for a long time."

"What went wrong at last?" said I. "That tiresome Latin, I dare
say."

"No! it was not the Latin. Peter was in high favour with my
father, for he worked up well for him. But he seemed to think that
the Cranford people might be joked about, and made fun of, and they
did not like it; nobody does. He was always hoaxing them;
'hoaxing' is not a pretty word, my dear, and I hope you won't tell
your father I used it, for I should not like him to think that I
was not choice in my language, after living with such a woman as
Deborah. And be sure you never use it yourself. I don't know how
it slipped out of my mouth, except it was that I was thinking of
poor Peter and it was always his expression. But he was a very
gentlemanly boy in many things. He was like dear Captain Brown in
always being ready to help any old person or a child. Still, he
did like joking and making fun; and he seemed to think the old
ladies in Cranford would believe anything. There were many old
ladies living here then; we are principally ladies now, I know, but
we are not so old as the ladies used to be when I was a girl. I
could laugh to think of some of Peter's jokes. No, my dear, I
won't tell you of them, because they might not shock you as they
ought to do, and they were very shocking. He even took in my
father once, by dressing himself up as a lady that was passing