"There are many things, however, that we never understood, and perhaps
never shall in this world," Mr. Twemlow continued, as if talking to
himself, for reason on that subject would be misaddressed to her; "and
nothing is more natural than that young Caryl should side with his
mother, who so petted him, against his poor father, who was violent and
harsh, especially when he had to pay such bills. But perhaps our good
nephew has amassed some cash, though there seems to be but little on the
Continent, after all this devastation. Is there anything, Maria, in his
letter to enable us to hope that he is coming home with money?"

"Not a word, I am afraid," Mrs. Twemlow answered, sadly. "But take it,
my dear, and read it to me slowly. You make things so plain, because
of practice every Sunday. Oh, Joshua, I never can be sure which you
are greatest in--the Lessons or the Sermon. But before you begin I will
shoot the bolt a little, as if it had caught by accident. Eliza does
rush in upon us sometimes in the most unbecoming, unladylike way. And I
never can get you to reprove her."

"It would be as much as my place is worth, as the maids say when
imagined to have stolen sugar. And I must not read this letter so loud
as the Lessons, unless you wish Lizzie to hear every word, for she has
all her mother's quick senses. There is not much of it, and the scrawl
seems hasty. We might have had more for three and fourpence. But I am
not the one to grumble about bad measure--as the boy said about old
Busby. Now, Maria, listen, but say nothing; if feminine capacity may
compass it. Why, bless my heart, every word of it is French!" The rector
threw down his spectacles, and gazed at his wife reproachfully. But she
smiled with superior innocence.

"What else could you expect, after all his years abroad? I cannot