wait till the lawsuit should be decided by legal means. If Mr. Tappitt would not consent to one of the three propositions made to him, Rowan would at once commence the building of his new brewery. “He is that sort of man,” said Honyman, “that if he puts a brick down nothing in the world will prevent him from going on.”

“Of course it won’t,” said Mrs. Tappitt. “Oh dear, oh dear, T.! if you go on in this way we shall all be ruined; and then people will say that it was my fault, and that I ought to have had you inquired into about your senses.”

Tappitt gnashed his teeth and rushed out of the dining-room back into his brewery. Among all those who were around him there was not one to befriend him. Even Worts had turned against him, and had received notice to go with a stern satisfaction which Tappitt had perfectly understood.

Tappitt was in this frame of mind, and was seated on his office stool, with his hat over his eyes, when he was informed by one of the boys about the place that a deputation from the town had come to wait upon him;⁠—so he pulled off his hat, and begged that the deputation might be shown into the countinghouse. The deputation consisted of three tradesmen who were desirous of convening a meeting with the view of discussing the petition against Mr. Cornbury’s return to Parliament, and they begged that Mr. Tappitt would take the chair. The meeting was to be held at the Dragon, and it was proposed that after the meeting there should be a little dinner. Mr. Tappitt would perhaps consent to take the chair at the dinner also. Mr. Tappitt did consent to both propositions, and when the deputation withdrew, he felt himself to be himself once more. His courage had returned to him, and he would at once rebuke his wife for the impropriety of the words she had addressed to him. He would rebuke his wife, and would then proceed to meet Mr. Sharpit the attorney, at the Dragon, and to take the chair at the meeting. It could not be that a young adventurer such as Rowan could put down an old-established firm, such as his own, or banish from the scene of his labours a man of such standing in the town as himself! It was all the fault of Honyman⁠—of Honyman who never was firm on any matter. When the meeting should be over he would say a word or two to Sharpit, and see if he could not put the matter into better training.

With a heavy tread, a tread that was intended to mark his determination, he ascended to the drawing-room and from thence to the bedroom above in which Mrs. Tappitt was then seated. She understood the meaning of the footfall, and knew well that it indicated a purpose of marital authority. A woman must have much less of natural wit than had fallen to Mrs. Tappitt’s share, who has not learned from the experience of thirty years the meaning of such marital signs and sounds. So she sat herself firmly in her seat, caught hold of the petticoat which she was mending with a stout grasp, and prepared herself for the battle. “Margaret,” said he, when he had carefully closed the door behind him, “I have come up to say that I do not intend to dine at home today.”

“Oh, indeed,” said she. “At the Dragon, I suppose then.”

“Yes; at the Dragon. I’ve been asked to take the chair at a popular meeting which is to be held with reference to the late election.”

“Take the chair!”

“Yes, my dear, take the chair at the meeting and at the dinner.”

“Now, T., don’t you make a fool of yourself.”

“No, I won’t; but Margaret, I must tell you once for all that that is not the way in which I like you to speak to me. Why you should have so much less confidence in my judgment than other people in Baslehurst, I cannot conceive; but⁠—”

“Now, T., look here; as for your taking the chair as you call it, of course you can do it if you like it.”

“Of course I can; and I do like it, and I mean to do it. But it isn’t only about that I’ve come to speak to you. You said something to me today, before Honyman, that was very improper.”

“What I say always is improper, I know.”

“I don’t suppose you could have intended to insinuate that you thought that I was a lunatic.”

“I didn’t say so.”

“You said something like it.”

“No, I didn’t, T.

“Yes you did, Margaret.”

“If you’ll allow me for a moment, T., I’ll tell you what I did say, and if you wish it, I’ll say it again.”

“No; I’d rather not hear it said again.”

“But, T., I don’t choose to be misunderstood, nor yet misrepresented.”

“I haven’t misrepresented you.”

“But I say you have misrepresented me. If I ain’t allowed to speak a word, of course it isn’t any use for me to open my mouth. I hope I know what my duty is and I hope I’ve done it;⁠—both by you, T., and by the children. I know I’m bound to submit, and I hope I have submitted. Very hard it has been sometimes when I’ve seen things going as they have gone; but I’ve remembered my duty as a wife, and I’ve held my tongue when any other woman in England would have spoken out. But there are some things which a woman can’t stand and shouldn’t; and if I’m to see my girls ruined and left without a roof over their heads, or a bit to eat, or a thing to wear, it shan’t be for want of a word from me.”

“Didn’t they always have plenty to eat?”

“But where is it to come from if you’re going to rush open-mouthed into the lion’s jaws in this way? I’ve done my duty

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