her charge; and especially resentful and disagreeable towards all those
ladies who, by suitable age, rank, or propinquity, she thought capable
of 'casting sheep's eyes at master.'

Several years before the opening of this story, Mr. Gibson's position
seemed settled for life, both socially and professionally. He was a
widower, and likely to remain so; his domestic affections were centred
on little Molly, but even to her, in their most private moments, he did
not give way to much expression of his feelings; his most caressing
appellation for her was 'Goosey,' and he took a pleasure in bewildering
her infant mind with his badinage. He had rather a contempt for
demonstrative people, arising from his medical insight into the
consequences to health of uncontrolled feeling. He deceived himself
into believing that still his reason was lord of all, because he had
never fallen into the habit of expression on any other than purely
intellectual subjects. Molly, however, had her own intuitions to guide
her. Though her papa laughed at her, quizzed her, joked at her, in a
way which the Miss Brownings called 'really cruel' to each other when
they were quite alone, Molly took her little griefs and pleasures, and
poured them into her papa's ears, sooner even than into Betty's, that
kind-hearted termagant. The child grew to understand her father well,
and the two had the most delightful intercourse together--half banter,
half seriousness, but altogether confidential friendship. Mr. Gibson
kept three servants; Betty, a cook, and a girl who was supposed to be
housemaid, but who was under both the elder two, and had a pretty life
of it in consequence. Three servants would not have been required if it
had not been Mr. Gibson's habit, as it had been Mr. Hall's before him,
to take two 'pupils,' as they were called in the genteel language of
Hollingford, 'apprentices,' as they were in fact--being bound by
indentures, and paying a handsome premium' to learn their business.