the complacency of a person who is thought worthy of important
communications.

"He's an Oxford man," said Mr. Riley, sententiously, shutting his
mouth close, and looking at Mr. Tulliver to observe the effect of this
stimulating information.

"What! a parson?" said Mr. Tulliver, rather doubtfully.

"Yes, and an M.A. The bishop, I understand, thinks very highly of him:
why, it was the bishop who got him his present curacy."

"Ah?" said Mr. Tulliver, to whom one thing was as wonderful as another
concerning these unfamiliar phenomena. "But what can he want wi' Tom,
then?"

"Why, the fact is, he's fond of teaching, and wishes to keep up his
studies, and a clergyman has but little opportunity for that in his
parochial duties. He's willing to take one or two boys as pupils to
fill up his time profitably. The boys would be quite of the
family,--the finest thing in the world for them; under Stelling's eye
continually."

"But do you think they'd give the poor lad twice o' pudding?" said
Mrs. Tulliver, who was now in her place again. "He's such a boy for
pudding as never was; an' a growing boy like that,--it's dreadful to
think o' their stintin' him."

"And what money 'ud he want?" said Mr. Tulliver, whose instinct told
him that the services of this admirable M.A. would bear a high price.